


Fortuitous

by thecomebackkid



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: And Liam is basically just a little bit clueless, Basically all the ingredients for a really good rom-com fic, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Harry is flirting shamelessly with Liam, M/M, Pining, Smut, This is becoming longer and longer, Unrequited Love, Zayn is acting weird around Liam, a little bit of angst, but I have loads of ideas so bear with me! :D
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-06-08 03:10:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6836626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecomebackkid/pseuds/thecomebackkid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know what they say. 'If it sounds too good to be true', Louis," Liam sighs and tries to ignore Louis and the piece of paper he is waving insistently in Liam's face.</p>
<p>"Then what? Take it home and show it a good time?" He wiggles his eyebrows.</p>
<p>"No." Liam groans. "If it sounds too good to be true, it is."</p>
<p>"We'll see about that, my dear Liam. We'll see about that."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Zayn inherits his uncle's flat in London. Even so, with three bedrooms, rent is expensive and Zayn has to find someone to rent the two remaining rooms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

1.

 

“I don’t fucking care which room I get, just choose one!” 

“Hey dude, no need to swear,” Louis says. “I’m the one who does the swearing, you’re not allowed.”

Liam shakes his head and rubs his hands over his face. When he looks up, Louis is standing with his arms folded and his head tilted slightly, contemplating the room they’re in. The end wall has a huge window and soft, bright light pours in. The walls are light cream and the light makes the room seem warm and homey, even though it is completely empty. There is still a faint smell of paint hanging in the room and Liam breathes it in, counting to 10 in his head to try and calm down his nerves.

“I want a desk,” Louis says. 

“Right, then pick the big room.”

“But I also like the built in wardrobe in the small room. I need a mirror as big as the one on the on the door.” He waves his hand towards the hallway and the general direction of the smaller room. Liam closes his eyes and counts to ten in his mind.

“You just want it because it’s at the end of the bed, don’t you,” it is not a question but a statement.

“You know me so well,” Louis smiles brightly. “I do enjoy watching myself having sex. It is very pleasing.”

Liam groans, trying not to picture this. “Don’t. Please just… just choose a room.”

Louis leaves the room they’re in and walks into the hallway. Liam can hear him opening the door to the little room. He slumps against the wall and waits.

“I can’t have both a double bed and a desk in here though!” Louis yells through the flat.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you this whole time!” Liam says, exasperated. “Why is a desk so important anyway? You never work.”

“Well, my dear Liam,” Louis begins, and Liam can tell from his voice that he probably should have never asked. “I do enjoy a good old fashioned missionary, but there is nothing like shagging someone on the desk.”

“Just take the big room,” Liam says. “Just bloody pick it.”

“All right, then,” Louis decides, coming back into the room. “But I’m gonna need to buy a mirror.”

 

***

 

Zayn picks up the phone and stares at the numbers on the screen. He doesn’t recognize the caller ID, but he takes the call anyway.

“Hello?” he says into the phone.

“Hi,” says a female voice on the other end. “My name is Jenna, I’m calling about the ad for your flat.”

“Well,” Zayn starts, “You’re too late. I already rented out the rooms.”

“Oh, erh… okay,” says the girl, “shit!”

“Excuse me?”

“No sorry, I was just,” her voice sounds farther away, as if she put the phone down.

“Just…?” Zayn asks. He does not have time for this.

“I’m sorry,” she says, coming back to the phone. “I wasn’t swearing at you, I just spilled some coffee and… fuck, you know what, I have to go.”

Zayn doesn’t say anything and before he can, she hangs up. He looks down at the phone and frowns. So many weird people has contacted him about the ad, he’s used to bizarre phone calls by now. At least he thinks the two guys he picked for his new flatmates are somewhat decent. He had talked to one of them on the phone; he had a soft voice and was pleasant to talk to. For the viewing, only one guy had shown up but it was not the one with the voice from the phone. This one was more shrill and seemed almost overly energetic, a little too much for Zayn anyway. He had been clean looking, though, nice clothes and styled hair. If Zayn is honest, he had been quite easy on the eyes, but the most important part is that he had offered to pay Zayn upfront. Zayn had inquired about the other guy, the friend, and he had been promised good things. 

“He is very neat,” the guy had said, “Neat, hard working and easy-going. A dream of a flat mate, actually!” 

Zayn wasn’t sure if he was saying this just to get the flat, but the guy had gotten an affectionate look in his eyes when he talked about his friend, and Zayn regarded that as a good sign. 

“I’m Louis, by the way,” the guy had said and held out his hand. Zayn had shaken it and the guy, Louis, had signed the lease for six months.

Zayn notices the time on the screen of the phone still in his hand before it fades to black, and he shakes his head, dropping his line of thought. It is only almost 1pm, and he is starting to get hungry. He pushes out his chair and grabs his wallet lying on the desk in front of him. He saves the document on the sleek screen of the iMac on his desk and heads towards the door. 

“You going for lunch?” Niall asks him from behind his own desk in the opposite side of the room.

“Yes, I’m taking my break early,” Zayn admits. “I’m starving.”

“Same,” Niall sighs and turns his attention briefly towards his computer screen, saving his work, before standing up and heading towards Zayn. “I was just waiting for someone else to leave early,” he says. “I’m positively famished, mate.”

“You just had coffee and a muffin.” Zayn opens the glass door and they step out onto the street. 

“What’s your point?” Niall asks.

Zayn just smiles and shakes his head. Niall is like a bottomless hole. Zayn has never met anyone who can eat as much and as frequently as Niall. “I have to pop to the Apple store and pick up my laptop, it’s back from service.” 

Niall nods and changes the subject. When they get to the Apple store, everyone inside looks up at them as Niall loudly finishes his story. 

“… and I swear to God, I still can’t get rid of the smell! She puked everywhere. Everywhere, Zayn! I’m so done with one night stands.” Zayn looks apologetically at a couple who was looking at the iPhones but now looks more interested in Niall’s story. They head for the counter and waits in line. In front of them is a girl with her back towards them, talking animatedly at the guy with an employee’s sign and a bored expression on his face.

“Do you think you can save it?” she asks hopefully.

“Possibly,” the guy says, sounding unconvinced, and types something on the keyboard.

“What does that even mean,” she presses. “I really need you to fix it, there’s important stuff on there!”

“Well then maybe don’t spill coffee into your keyboard if there’s important stuff on your laptop,” he says. 

“Rude,” Niall whispers to Zayn.

“Well, maybe don’t antagonise your costumers, if you want to keep your job,” she girl throws back at him. He eyes her with a frown but doesn’t say anymore.

Niall makes big eyes at Zayn and tries to hold back a laugh. Zayn chuckles and the girl turns towards them.

“You find this funny?” she asks. 

Niall shakes his head but doesn’t say anything, and his cheeks go a little red. 

“No,” Zayn assures her, “not at all.”

The guy behind the counter tells her to wait for a minute before he disappears somewhere in the back of the store. The girl taps her fingers on the counter top.

“I thought it was brilliant,” Niall squeaks, finding his voice again. 

The girl looks at him over her shoulder, measuring his words for a moment. Then she smiles politely before turning her back again. The air goes quiet for a beat, no one saying anything. It is slightly awkward, but then the girl slumps her shoulders, sighs, and turns all the way around to face them, leaning on the counter.

“Sorry,” she says to Zayn, “I didn’t mean to snap. I’ve just had an annoying day.”

“S’ all good.” 

“No really,” the girl continues, “I’m actually a really nice person, but I can’t stand know-it-all hipsters who think they’re the oracle of the world.” She motions her head towards the back of the store where the Apple guy had disappeared. 

“That’s fair,” Niall says. “I’d be on edge if I had spilled coffee into my computer as well.”

The girl sighs again and nods her head. “Yeah, she says, I hate myself a little bit. And there’s some really important photos on there.”

“Oh, that’s the worst!” Niall exclaims. Zayn is not at all surprised to see Niall so easily strike up conversation with a stranger. Niall talks to everyone. Zayn has even seen him talk to a lamppost, but he was quite drunk when that happened, to be fair.

“Yeah,” the girl frowns. “And I just got turned down once again about a flat, too. It’s so hard to find affordable places in the city.”

Zayn jerks his head up at this. Niall opens his mouth to answer her, but Zayn beats him to it. 

“Is your name Jenna?” he asks.

The girl looks at him, surprised. “No,” she says, and Zayn shakes his head.

“No, of course, sorry,” he says. “I thought you were someone else.”

“It’s Gemma,” the girl says, still looking weirdly at Zayn.

Close enough, Zayn thinks. Maybe he had heard the name wrong. “Were you calling about a flat on Hastings?” 

Her face brightens up. “Yes, exactly! Although, it was for my brother, but either way... You're Zayn?” 

“I am,” he answers.

“Excuse me,” Niall interrupts, “but do you two know each other?”

“No,” they both answer simultaneously. The girl giggles. 

“What a coincidence,” she says. Niall goes to say something, but then the Apple guy is back, and the girl turns towards him. After giving him her information and signing a couple of papers, she tells him goodbye and starts to walk out of the store. She nods and smiles at Zayn and Niall, and Niall does a weird little wave. 

“Weird,” Zayn mutters and steps up to the counter.

“Gorgeous,” Niall says and looks after the girl as she walks out the doors and disappears.

Zayn gives him a look. “I thought you said you were done with one night stands.”

 

*** 

 

It is already getting dark, and Liam looks at the clock. It’s only 6pm. He hates when it gets darker, when the days become shorter and it feels like there isn’t as many hours in the day. He shakes his shoulders, shaking off the cold and heads down the stairs to the subway. He knows the intricate tunnels like the back of his hand, and he knows to have a pound ready for the busker who always stands on the corner with his guitar. He is young, neat looking and has kind eyes. He doesn’t look either homeless or on his ass poor. Liam has a feeling he does it more because he likes it than for the few coins people throw at him once in a while. He is good, too. Today, he’s playing an acoustic version of Just Like Heaven by The Cure. Liam smiles at him as he passes.

“… and I promise you, I promise that I’ll run away with you, thank you!” the guy tags on at the end of the line, his voice going from raspy and melodic to lighter, happy, in a beat. He gives Liam an astonishing smile.

Liam nods and walks on. As he waits for the train, he can hear the guys voice flow through the tiled tunnel and every once in a while, he breaks his song for a second, saying thank you to whoever tossed him a coin. Liam smiles to himself and wonders what the guy is even doing in London underground in the first place. He could easily play stages, Liam thinks.

The train arrives and the usual commotion as people shuffle in and out of the doors has Liam bump into the guy next to him. 

“Oh, sorry,” Liam mumbles.

“S’all good,” the guy says. 

Liam sits in an empty seat and the guy goes to sit on the row opposite of Liam. At first, Liam is zoning out, just listening to the sound of the train and its passengers. He stares absently into nothing, but all of a sudden, he registers that someone is staring at him. Well, back at him. Liam forces his eyes into focus and realises that he is staring directly into the dark eyes of the guy he just bumped into. He quickly looks down, avoiding the gaze of the other guy. Instead, he finds himself looking at his shoes. They are simple, brown lace-up combat boots. Liam’s eyes travel upwards. The guy’s black skinny jeans have a rip on one knee. He is wearing a white Henley, all but one button unbuttoned, showing off a bit of black and red ink. Over the thin shirt, he is wearing a leather jacket, even though it’s winter. Liam finds himself staring at his throat and the light stubble on his chin, before mapping his face and ending up at the eyes, eyes that are still piercing into his own. Before Liam can look away again, this time embarrassed, the guy’s lip tugs into the tiniest smile, and he is the first one to break the eye contact, looking down into the book in his lap.

Liam looks away, but not before registering that the tiny smile is still playing on the guy’s lips and that his own heart has picked up speed. He tries to fight the heat from rising to his cheeks and prays that the train arrives at his stop sooner rather than later.


	2. Chapter 2

2

Chalk Farm station is quiet, and as Gemma emerges from the underground, she learns why. Up on Chalk Farm Road, all the shops are closed, but what leaves the street deserted is the storm and the rain whipping into her face. She pulls her hoodie up and bends forward against the wind and walks towards her flat. When she reaches Stables Market and crosses the road, she learns that even the Asian restaurant beneath her flat is closed. Great, she thinks, there goes her dinner plans. Up in the flat, all the lights are off, and she presumes Harry hasn’t gotten home yet, but she calls his name just to be sure. No one answers. She puts her bag down and takes her binder out. Her bag is as soaked as she is, but luckily the binder is dry. She puts it on the kitchen table and goes to the bathroom. The walk from the station has her clothes completely soaked and her skin breaking out in goose bumps. Shivering, she peels off her jeans, stuck to her legs. She turns on the shower, turns it all the way up to hot and when the entire room is steamy and she has put all her clothes in the hamper, she steps under the scalding stream of water and sighs. It is almost too hot, but it warms her all the way through. When she’s warm to her bones, she turns off the shower and the following silence leaves all other sounds clear. The walls in the flat are thin, and you can hear everything. It is a tiny flat with hallway, kitchen and living room in one, a tiny bedroom and a decently sized bathroom. From the hallway/kitchen/living room, she can hear someone shuffle about. She wraps herself in a towel and cracks the door. 

“Harry?” she calls tentatively.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Harry’s voice flows towards her from the room, still bathed in darkness. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Why are the lights off?” she asks.

“Erh… I tried turning them on when I came in but I think I blew a bulb or something.”

Gemma sighs, “Great.”

“I’ll run down and get a new one!” Harry quickly says, trying to patch it up.

Gemma steps out of the bathroom and heads for her room. “It’s okay,” she tells him. “The shops are closed and the weather is horrible, just leave it for now. I have candles in my room.” 

She closes the door behind her and Harry slumps into the couch. He knows he’s on thin ice. In the dark, he tries to sort out the plastic bags sitting on the floor next to his feet. He carries them to the kitchen and takes out the little containers and puts them on the table. He finds plates and cutlery and two wine glasses. At one point, Gemma comes out of her room, dressed in sweatpants and a jumper, and she starts lighting candles. 

“You brought food,” she says, and it’s not a question. She sounds resigned, somehow. Harry looks at her and smiles.

“Yeah, well, it was just leftovers. They were going to throw it out so I took it home instead. Don’t tell Marco, though, I’m not sure he would approve.” Harry starts opening the different containers and the smell of spices rises with the steam. 

“You know,” Gemma says, “It’s really hard to be mad at you when you bring home delicious Cuban food.” She looks at the two glasses Harry has taken out and then she peers into the last plastic bag left on the table. “Erh, Harry, I’m pretty sure Marco wouldn’t approve of this either.” She holds out the chilled bottle of wine.

“Heyyy,” Harry squeaks, indignant. “I actually paid for that one.”  
“You paid 20 pounds for a bottle of wine? Are you out of your mind?” Gemma gawks at him in disbelief.

“Actually,” Harry corrects her, “it’s 17.50 for that one and no, I didn’t exactly pay full price.”

Gemma contemplates him for a while. “Aren’t you afraid of losing your job? This is the most prestigious one you’ve ever had,” she taunts. “A waiter at The Cuban. You better be careful or you might jeopardise your entire future.”

“I don’t need to listen to your sarcasm,” Harry feigns offence. “I didn’t actually have to do this for you.”

“For me? Or for you and then also a little bit for me because I happen to, I don’t know, let you live in my home rent free?”

“Touché.”

Harry pours the wine and Gemma starts piling food onto her plate. They turn on the TV, but end up talking over it anyway. It is nice, just being together the two of them, Gemma thinks. Her brother can be a royal pain in the ass sometimes, but she does love him more than anyone. After a couple of hours, the food is all gone and the bottle of wine is nearly empty. Harry goes to pour the last of it into his glass, but by accident, he tips the glass over. 

“Shit,” he mumbles and tries to save the stuff lying on the table, move it out of the way of the wine. His phone survives. The folder on the table not so much. Gemma brings him paper towels, but when she sees her folder soaked in white wine, she shrieks and rips it off the table. She opens it, and all the pictures inside are crumbled at the corners and edges, wet and every last one of them completely ruined.

She looks at Harry who meets her gaze with a lost look in his eyes, like a dog about to be scolded, shoulders slumped. “I love you Harry,” she says, echoing her thoughts from before. “But you have got to find your own place.”

 

***

 

“I swear to hell,” Louis exclaims loudly at Liam as they climb the stairs to the top floor, “if I hear you utter ONE more word about that ‘unbelievably beautiful guy with these dark eyes and this hair, his hair Louis, and those cheek bones!’ from the train, Liam, I will personally gag you.” His voice resonates in the entire stairway when he imitates Liam’s.

Liam goes to say something but is interrupted by a slightly soft, melodic voice. “Saucy.”

Liam and Louis look up at the guy standing in the doorframe in front of them. Louis grins at him, no shame, and waves his hand towards Liam.

“Nice to see you again too, Zayn! I want you to meet Liam, your other new and slightly less fun flat mate!”

Zayn measures Liam with a quick look, running his eyes up and down Liam’s body in a matter of seconds. Liam is paralyzed and knows for certain that he has gone completely red. 

That, right there, is the hot guy from the train.

Zayn breaks the silence when he sticks his hand out for Liam to take. “Nice to finally meet you, Liam,” he says and holds Liam’s gaze for a while longer than necessary, “officially.” 

Liam swallows and shakes Zayn’s hand, trying to match the pressure of Zayn’s in his. For a second, everything is paused; Liam’s breathing, his heartbeat, time. 

Then Louis breaks the bubble. “Alriiiight, lads. The sexual tension between you is making even me sweat right now. Shall we?” He motions towards the hallway. Louis has a tendency to say whatever the fuck he wants and more often than not, making people completely and utterly uncomfortable. Most of the time, Liam loves him for it. There is something breezy and delightfully refreshing about someone who doesn’t put a filter on what they say. Right now though, Liam is the one feeling uncomfortable and he does not love Louis in this particular moment.

Zayn lets go of Liam’s hand and walks into the flat without a word, not commenting on Louis’ remark. Louis struts in after him, and Liam follows awkwardly.

“Right, this out here is the kitchen,” Zayn says in a monotone voice, motioning towards the kitchen. “And the rooms are down the hall. One of them is smaller than the others, but the one of you who gets the small room will get a cheaper rent to make up for it. Let me show you the rooms.”

“Erh,” Louis mumbles, “I kinda already took Liam up here and showed him the flat. You gave me a spare key? I assumed it would be okay…”

Zayn pauses. “Oh, okay. Of course.”

“So erh, is it cool with you if we start bringing our stuff up?”

“Sure.”

“Alright then. Well. See you in a minute!” Louis takes Liam by the hand and drags him out of the flat. 

None of them says anything as they walk down the three flights of stairs, but when they’re outside, Louis turns to Liam with an exasperated expression on his face. “Why, Liam, why in the name of hell did you have to make it awkward?”

“Excuse me?” Liam cannot believe him.

“You were just standing there like a – like a fucking mute! Why can’t you at least TRY to make a good impression on our new flat mate? Is it because I said that thing about you being slightly less fun? Because let’s face it Liam, I wasn’t totally off with that one, I mean, I am quite a hoot to be around and we both know it, hell, you probably wouldn’t even have stuck around for so long if it wasn’t at least a bit fun for you, but if that really hurt your feelings, then I guess –”

“Louis,” Liam interrupts, “it’s not about that. Actually, you were the one who made it awkward.” Louis looks at him, dramatically confused, his expression saying ‘me? How could I ever!’, and Liam elaborates, “your comment about the sexual tension, Louis, not that there is any of that, I think, but that’s not the point. You are so bloody conspicuous sometimes.”

“Oh that? That was not awkward, that was just a joke,” Louis waves his hand in the air. “Stop being a prude, you’re acting like a 14-year-old.”

“Louis,” Liam says again, this time lowering his voice, “that guy up there is the guy from the train.”

“Jesus Christ, Liam, I though I told you I didn’t want to hear anoth– what?!” Louis stops dead in his tracks.

“Yep,” Liam agrees, “exactly.”

A beat passes. Then another. Louis’ mouth opens gradually, more and more, forming an ‘o’. 

“Oh… oh!” His eyes are lit with mischief. “Right. Then… well, that is awkward.” Louis looks up at the building. “Really?” He motions his head towards the windows at the top of the building and his tone is nothing if not disbelieving, “that one does it for you?” 

“Well, yeah,” Liam confesses, “He is good looking. Come on, you can’t argue with that.”

Louis just shrugs and bends down and picks up a box from the boot of the car he has borrowed from his mother for the occasion. “Well, at least you’ve got a chance of getting some now.”

Liam, having picked up two boxes – at which Louis scuffs with a mumbled ‘show-off’ – stops and looks bemusedly at Louis, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“That is supposed to mean that the guy up there, Cheekbones, is obviously into you, too.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Liam says and pushes the door to the stairway open with one elbow, balancing the two boxes easily. He makes sure Louis has a foot down so the door doesn’t close on him and heads up the stairs. 

“I could say the same about you,” Louis mutters, too softly for Liam to hear. He smiles fondly at the back of his best friend who is swiftly disappearing up the stairs, and he thinks to himself that perhaps this isn’t going to be too bad at all. 

Upstairs, Liam finds the small room at the end of the hallway. He quickly puts down the two boxes and walks back out, heading out to get the rest of his stuff. When he walks past the kitchen, he hears his name being called, too softly, as if it wasn’t meant for him to hear. From the stairway, the acoustics of the building is throwing around the sound of Louis’ gasping and panting, as if he’s choking carrying the box up the stairs. Liam breathes in quickly to calm his pulse and walks into the kitchen. Zayn is leaning against the counter in front of the big window, which illuminates all his soft and sharp edges, haloing his figure and Liam’s calming breath slips out involuntarily. 

“Can I help you?” he says happily to try and mask the sound he just made, and it occurs to him that this is the first time he has spoken to Zayn.

“No,” Zayn says, “but I can help you. Do you need a hand with your stuff?”

“I think Louis does,” Liam mumbles as the sound of a wheezing Louis, dragging his feet along the hardwood floor in the hallway, reaches them in the kitchen.

“Hmm,” Zayn hums softly, and Liam thinks he’s going to suffocate. He can’t see Zayn’s features because of the light falling in behind him, but he can see the movement, the vibrations, of Zayn’s throat as he speaks and it makes the breath catch in Liam’s.

“Is that all?” Liam asks, “I think the car is unlocked downstairs, so I better…”

Zayn pushes himself away from the counter and walks towards Liam. Liam is frozen in place. Zayn steps into his personal space, so close that Liam can feel the heat from his body, and the smell of Zayn surrounds him. It is dizzying. Zayn grabs Liam’s wrist and pulls it towards himself. Liam prays that Zayn can’t feel his galloping pulse. He pries open Liam’s fingers and presses something cold and hard into his hand, metal and pointy. “That’s all,” he purrs into Liam’s ear and just as swiftly as he had stepped over to Liam, just as quickly is he gone. 

Liam feels like he might need help with his stuff anyway. He is just as out of breath as Louis. He can’t breathe properly around Zayn, apparently. The other boy literally takes his breath away. Liam forcefully shakes his head, trying to shake off the cliché and looks down at his palm. A silver key is glistening up at him and a tentative smile creeps onto his face. Maybe Louis wasn’t being so stupid after all.

 

***

 

“Oi!” Niall’s booming voice sounds from behind his desk as Zayn walks into the office on Monday morning. “Oi, Zayn! Have you found the guy from the underground yet?” He chuckles and turns his attention towards the computer screen in front of him, holding up a finger, signifying ‘wait for it’.

Zayn sighs heavily and puts his bag on the floor next to his chair. He tries to ignore Niall. Why he ever tells the guy anything is a mystery to him right now. Niall remembers absolutely everything, obviously not including the fact that Zayn distinctly told him to keep his big Irish mouth shut after he, influenced by a couple of Friday afternoon pints, revealed his lingering thoughts about the stranger on the train. He has a feeling Niall’s not about to let this go. However, ignoring him is hard when familiar guitar chords start to flow through the office and makes everyone look up. Niall stands up, turning the button on his speakers to full volume and points towards Zayn. Zayn closes his eyes.

“My life is brilliant,” Niall mouths along with the music.

“Why the fuck is Horan playing James Blunt?” someone asks from the back of the office.

“My love is pure. I saw an angel, of that I’m sure!” Niall waggle his hips, his arms in the air.

Zayn stands up and stalks over to Niall’s desk, trying to turn off the music. Niall fights him on it and chimes in loudly himself, singing along to the song, holding Zayn’s hand away from the speakers.

“He smiled at me on the subway, he as with another man!”

“Shut the fuck up, Niall!” Zayn cries out. “I swear to God, shut the fuck up.”

“But I won’t lose no sleep on that, ‘cause I got a plan!” Niall’s voice gets louder and louder and someone else in the office is chiming in as well. Zayn gives up.

“YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL!” Niall yells, and more people are joining him, to his obvious delight, “YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL, IT’S TRUE!”

Zayn walks back to his desk, head bent and cheeks burning. Everyone in the office is standing up and singing along by the time he reaches his desk. Niall’s voice is the loudest, though, laced with barely concealed laughter. “… And I don’t think that I’ll see him again but we shared a moment that will last till the end!”

Zayn turns on his computer and tries to pretend that he can’t even hear them. They are only 11 people in the office, but they all sing from the top of their lungs now, and they are all looking at him. Niall is a fucking idiot.

“But it’s time to face the truth,” he finishes as the song fades out, “I will never be with you!”

Everyone applauds and laughs and talks among each other, someone yelling “Go get it Zayn!”. Zayn pointedly ignores all of them. When the commotion comes to an and people start to go back to their projects, Zayn sighs and let his shoulders fall, no longer as tense. He looks up only when Niall is perched on his desk, giving him a bright, mischievous smile.

“Actually,” Zayn says, looking back at his screen, typing away on the keyboard, “he just moved into my flat.”

Niall’s smile falters. Zayn waits, not looking at him, but then a clatter and a bump makes him look up at where Niall was just sitting, but has now disappeared from. A second later, he pops his head up over the edge of the desk. “Did you just fall off the desk?” Zayn asks, “that’s a little dramatic, don’t you think.”

“Your subway guy is moving in with you?” The excited yet preoccupied expression on Niall’s face has Zayn suspecting that Niall is already plotting.

“Don’t,” Zayn clips.

“What are the chances!” Niall shouts, delighted.

“Slim.” Zayn is not discussing this.

“Are we talking in two different layers right now, Zaynie? Is this subtext?”

“Just cut it out,” Zayn grumbles.

“Never,” Niall counters, “I will never let this go. Ever. When can I meet him?” His light are full of mirth as he looks expectantly at Zayn.

“You said it,” Zayn says and looks directly at him, “never. Ever.”

 

 

***

 

 

Living with other people is not exactly new. Liam has been living with his parents, he has lived at his aunt’s where he shared a room with his cousin and he has even stayed at Louis’ parents’ house for a couple of months. But this is different. Living with people you know well is easy. Living with completely new people, however, there are rules to be unravelled and routines to be learned. The first day in the new flat, Liam had woken up at 6am and gone for a run. At 7, he had turned on the shower and when he came out of the bathroom, Zayn had been waiting outside the door with murder on his face. 

“Do you even realise what time it is?” He had asked Liam, his teeth gritted.

“Erh,” Liam had peeked at the clock on the wall in the kitchen, visible from where he was standing in the hall, “quarter past 7.”

“Exactly. It is 7.15, Liam, on a Sunday bloody morning.”

“Sorry,” Liam has said, fidgeting with the towel wrapped around his waist, acutely aware of the fact that he was half naked and that Zayn was in tight, black boxers, loose t-shirt and deliciously tousled hair. “I didn’t realise you could hear the shower running from your room.”

“What I could hear,” Zayn spat, “was the door, slamming like hell. It was you stumping down the hall and then, Liam, then I heard the shower.”

“I, erh, I was listening to music. I didn’t know I was slamming the door. I’m really sorr– ”

“Whatever,” Zayn had said and pushed past Liam to the bathroom, then slammed the door closed. 

“Who the FUCK,” Liam had heard Louis yelling from his room, “is slamming the doors in the middle of the motherfucking NIGHT! I will strangle every last one of you!”

A week later, Liam and Louis are still sleeping on air mattresses. Liam wakes up early as usual, goes for a run and comes back around 7, this time being as quiet as possible. When he gets out of the shower, the smell of coffee flows towards him from the kitchen, and he knows it isn’t Louis – Louis prefers tea. He goes to his room and put on clothes, trying to avoid yet another embarrassing, half naked encounter with Zayn, whom he hasn’t really gotten to know yet despite the fact that they live together. Zayn works a lot. Apparently he works with some sort of multimedia design at a small, private company. Liam is not entirely sure, since this information is only second hand, what he has been told by Louis, who coincidentally met Zayn in Greggs on his lunch hour sometime during the week. Liam tries not to be jealous of this, and wait, why would he even be? ‘Because he’s hot as fuck’, a little voice in Liam’s mind tells him. Yes, Liam thinks to himself, but he’s still basically a stranger. Maybe they should change that. Fully dressed, Liam leaves his room and goes to the kitchen, finding Zayn sitting at the table with a steaming cup of black coffee in front of him, his head ducked, eyes on the pages of a book. He looks up when Liam comes in. 

“Hey,” he says and turns his attention towards the book again, mumbling, “there’s still some coffee in the pot.”

“Thanks,” Liam says and takes a mug from the drying rack. He pours coffee into it and opens the fridge to get the milk. Lifting the jug, he realises it’s empty.

“We’re out,” Zayn says from behind him, not looking up from his book. 

Liam slumps his shoulders and throws the empty jug in the bin. “Why would anyone put an empty jug back in the fridge?”

“Beats me,” Zayn mumbles, “ask your friend in there.” He motions his head towards the general area of Louis’ bedroom. 

Liam knows it is Louis who drank the last milk. He takes so much milk in his tea that it’s basically white. Liam can drink his coffee black, but he much prefers milk, and he has a suspicion that Zayn feels the same way and that he is not as nonchalant as he is letting off. Picking up the mug, Liam stands there awkwardly for a moment, not knowing whether to sit down opposite Zayn, who is still reading and obviously doesn’t want to be disturbed, or whether to just take the coffee to his room. Just as he decides on the latter, Zayn closes his book with a loud thud and looks up at Liam, his face blank. 

“So,” Zayn starts.

“Actually,” Liam says at the same time. They both stop and wait for the other to continue. Liam is the first to break the silence, knowing that he needs to say this now or never, before he loses his nerve.

“Erh, actually, Zayn, I was thinking… I kinda want ‘my friend in there’,” he repeats Zayn’s words, doing the same little head tilt towards Louis’ room as Zayn just did, “to be your friend as well.”

Zayn continues to stare at him, face still blank, awaiting Liam’s next words. They come like a waterfall.

“The thing is, we have been living here for a week now, and we haven’t really spoken that much at all. I mean, what I’m trying to say is I’d like to get to know you, erh, since you’re my flat mate and all, and I would really like it if we could become friends. I mean, Louis and I obviously know each other from way back, but I’d like you to see us as your friends as well.” 

Zayn remains motionless, measuring Liam with a look, the same kind he had given him when they moved in the previous Saturday and Liam once again finds himself floored. He is just about to open his mouth to try and make the situation less awkward, but Zayn beats him to it.

“So,” he starts again, an echo of before, as if Liam’s outpour hadn’t even happened, “how long are you guys going to sleep on those air mattresses for?”

“What?”

“The air mattresses, Liam. The big, blue inflated objects you and Louis have been sleeping on for a week. Or do you not want an actual bed?”

Liam is mildly confused about the fact that he might as well not have spoken at all. He choses to let it go, for now. “Erh, yes. But we don’t–”

“My friend Niall has a trailer. Or his grandpa does, anyway. We can, uhm, we can go to Ikea? Like, today.”

“Sure,” Liam says, checking his mental calendar. He hasn’t got any plans today. 

“We need some stuff for the bathroom anyway, and maybe a lamp or a plant or something.”

“Right, okay,” Liam agrees. 

“Cool. I’ll call him when he’s awake, which is probably going to be closer to 12.”

“So around the time Louis wakes up then,” Liam mumbles as he walks towards the hallway. Before turning the corner, he casts a brief look back at Zayn, who has re-opened his book, a tiny smile on his face as he ducks his head and continues reading.

 

 

*** 

 

As Niall pulls up to the curb, he sees Zayn leaning against the brick wall, a smoke dangling from his lips. He pushes off the wall as Niall brings the car to a full stop. Zayn walks over, drops the cigarette and stumps it out before he opens the door to the passenger seat and gets in.

“So where’s the–” Niall starts.

“Don’t.” Zayn snaps, looking at Niall. His eyes are big but his mouth is frowning. “I’m serious. If you say ONE word, Niall, ONE word, I will leave right away.”

“So you’re not gonna kill me and shit?” Niall asks, an impish smile on his face. 

“No Niall,” Zayn says, his voice quiet but ice cold. “I will not threaten you with empty promises. I am actually very, very serious. If you say a word, I am going to leave and I won’t talk to you again.”

“Damn,” Niall says, his smile faltering. 

Zayn leans back in his seat and rolls down the window. He stares at the front door of his building. “They’re coming down in a minute. I told them I was just going for a smoke, but actually,” he says, and turns his head to quickly look at Niall, “actually I came down here because I needed to get you alone first and make you promise not to say anything. Can you do that?”

“Alright, mate,” Niall shrugs his shoulders. “Have it your way.”

Zayn sighs. “Thanks.”  
“No problem. So, an Ikea trip, huh? Very original, Zaynie, it’s almost like something out of a romantic comedy.”

“Niall, it’s stuff like that! Can you please not!” Zayn cries out.

“Alright, alright, I’ll try my best!”

The front door opens and Louis and Liam steps out on the street. It’s sunny today, the sky is completely clear and so is the air, clear and freezing. Liam is wearing a ridiculous, grey beanie and Louis is bundled up in a thick woollen scarf.

“Cute,” Niall whispers, as Zayn waves them over to the car. Zayn shoots him one, last deadly look before Louis has opened the rear door, thrown himself into his seat and is sticking his head into the space between Zayn’s and Niall’s seats. 

“Hi gorgeous,” Louis says, “I’m Louis. I’m amazing in bed.” He sticks out his hand for Niall.

“Hi Louis, I’m Niall,” he takes Louis’ hand, “I’m painfully straight. Unfortunately for me, obviously.” He winks at Louis.

Louis smiles brightly at Zayn and says, “I like this one, we can keep him.”

Liam, having walked around the car, slides into his seat and closes the door. Niall turns to look at him.

“And you must be Liam,” Niall says, “very pleased to meet you!”

Zayn eyes Niall with a frown. He knows Niall well enough to hear the undertone in his voice, but he hopes that Louis and Liam don’t pick up on it. Liam shakes Niall’s hand and smiles even brighter at him than Louis just did. “Pleasure to meet you, too! And thank you so much for agreeing to drive us.”

Zayn looks at him in the rear view mirror and fondness spreads in his chest at the sincerity in Liam’s voice. Then their eyes meet in the mirror and Zayn tears his away, staring straight out the window. 

“Alright, let’s go,” he says stiffly and pushes at Niall’s shoulder. 

The trip to Ikea is fairly long, and instantly Niall’s chattering fills the car with sound. He asks Louis and Liam about their lives and within 15 minutes Zayn knows more about them than what he has learned in a whole week. Louis and Liam are both studying for their masters, Louis at London School of Arts and Liam at King’s College.

“So what do you study at King’s?” Niall asks, awe in his voice. 

“Intelligence and international security,” Liam shrugs. 

Zayn finds himself looking at Liam in the rear view mirror again, feeling the same awe as he detected in Niall’s voice. Niall whistles and turns around to face Liam for one second, making the car swerve for a second.

“Holy shit, Liam. That’s probably the coolest thing I’ve heard today.”

“Yeah, well,” Liam mumbles, his cheeks going pink.

“Liam doesn’t like to brag,” Louis cuts in. “He also is absolutely shit at taking compliments, but he does appreciate it, thanks.”

Zayn snorts. “Can’t Liam speak for himself?”

“Is that some salt I feel being thrown my way?” Louis says and leans back in the seat.

“Yes.”

“That’s okay Zayn, I know you mean it with love.”

“Whatever,” Zayn says, still smiling. Then he meets Liam’s eyes in the mirror once again and his smile disappears. “What are you going to be when you grow up then, Liam?” he asks.

“An MI5 agent, obviously,” Louis answers.

Liam groans. “No, I’m not. I don’t know yet. I think I want to work for the Secret Intelligence Service, but I’m not even sure I’ll be good enough.”

They all go quiet and the only sound is the hum of the car engine. Then, all at once, they erupt with questions.

“See? MI5, that’s what I said. Liam is going to be James Bond,” says Louis.

“Damn, that’s like a spy or a secret agent, man, that’s so bloody awesome!” Zayn blurts.

“Actually, the Secret Intelligence Service is MI6, they deal with foreign affairs and counter-intelligence,” Niall says as if it’s common knowledge, and they all look weirdly at him. “What?? I am a big James Bond fan. He’s the man!”

“I am not going to be James Bond. It is not that fabulous, actually. It’s a lot of paper work,” Liam corrects.

“I am going to be the next James Bond,” Louis says, having grown tired of all the attention being turned towards Liam. 

“Wait, what?” Niall asks confused.

“Well, on screen. I am going to be the next Daniel Craig or something. I’m a drama student.”  
“You don’t say,” Zayn mutters.

“I think you’re going to need a little more muscle than this if you want to be James Bond, mate,” Liam giggles and squeezes Louis’ bicep. 

“Hands off!” Louis shrieks.

Niall just laughs at them all, and Zayn can’t help but think that he might have just made the right choice when he selected his new flat mates.

When they finally reach Ikea, it is past 1 and Niall heads directly for the cafeteria. “I need the meat balls, dude,” he says when Zayn asks him where he’s going. The other three just shrug and follows him.

“Straight, as if!” Louis mumbles.

They all get a plate of meatballs, mash and gravy, and as they eat, they touch several subjects, superficial and some deeper ones as well, and it’s just really nice. Afterwards, they go to the bedroom section and pick out mattresses and bedframes. 

“I need the iron-looking frame,” Louis announces, and Niall and Zayn looks at him, waiting for him to continue while Liam groans and clutches his head. “If I ever need to handcuff someone to the bedframe, I want to know it will hold,” he elaborates. Now it’s Zayn’s and Niall’s turn to groan. 

“I hope the walls are soundproof,” Zayn states.

At one point, they split up, Zayn and Niall going for the bathroom section and Liam and Louis looking at desks.

“So,” Louis says, “Are you still into him?”

“Who?” Liam asks, pretending to be oblivious.

“Cut it out, mate, you know I see right through you. You have been uncharacteristically quiet today, and that’s what you do every time you’re in the presence of someone you’re crushing hard on, so don’t you dare try to deceive me.”

“I’m not ‘crushing hard’!” Liam exclaims. “I’m… I’m just gonna have to get to know him that’s all, then it’ll fade,”

“Like it always does,” they say in unison.

“Yes. Exactly, Louis. Like it always does.”

“Whatever,” Louis says. “Does this desk match my skin tone?”

Liam glares at him. “Erh, what? You know what, I don’t even wanna kno–”

“I want my skin to look luminous when I’m naked on top of it,” Louis says anyway.

In the bathroom section, Niall is looking at his own reflection in the mirror in one of the little fake display flats. Zayn is leaned against the fake door frame, waiting for him to be done admiring himself.

“I’m not admiring myself,” Niall tells him, as if he can read Zayn’s thoughts, or maybe just his expression. “I’m imagining myself living in an actual flat instead of in the guestroom of my grandparent’s house.”

“Yes, I secretly don’t believe you’re 23, mate.”

“It’s just, it’s too expensive. We can’t all have a rich uncle who decides to move to the suburbs and start a family at the age of 50. Get over yourself, rich kid.”

“Why aren’t you finding your own place, though? Your salary is alright.”

“Well,” Niall explains, “I just don’t want to see more than half of my entire salary disappear each month. I want to save up, I want to go travel.”

“Don’t we all,” Zayn says.

Niall chucks a plastic petal from a fake flower at him. They walk into another bathroom, black tiled and dimly lit. 

“I just, I think it’s time for me to settle down,” Niall says and that, Zayn thinks, is the most unlikely think he has heard Niall say. 

“Excuse me?”

“Well, it’s not that I want to get married or have kids or anything, not right now. But, see, I have a job, I have a stable income and the next step for me is, like, finding a girlfriend and move in with her.”

“It doesn’t just work like that, mate.”

Niall shrugs and says, “I don’t know, man, it could. Ever since we met that girl in the Apple store I have been thinking that–”

“Wait, what?” Zayn interrupts. “You’re still thinking about that girl? And you chaff me for thinking about Li– about a guy on a train? Fucking hypocrite.”

“I mean,” Niall chuckles and waggle his eyebrows, “if the shoe fits.” 

“Fuck off,” Zayn says and pushes him. Niall pushes back, hard enough that Zayn takes two backwards steps out of the fake flat and ends up in the aisle. He looks to the side to see if anyone is frowning at the racket. No one is staring at them, but…

“Talking about the shoe,” Zayn says in a hushed voice and fists Niall’s shirt, dragging him out in the aisle, “I think the shoe is coming this way right now.”

Confusion flashes in Niall’s eyes. “Wha- Liam?” he says, and looks in the same direction Zayn just motioned. 

Further down the aisle, coming towards the two of them, walks the girl from the Apple store. 

“Shit,” Niall whispers.

“Good luck, laddie,” Zayn whispers in mock Irish and pushes Niall towards the girl, ducking into the fake flat himself, hiding. 

The girl looks up and sees Niall, recognition changing her features. Niall does a weird little wave that has Zayn sniggering before he leaves out the back door, which just leads him to another little fake flat.

“Hey, I know you,” the girl says and smiles sweetly at Niall.

“Yeah, hi,” Niall stutters, “Gemma, yeah?”

Gemma nods. “I don’t think I ever got your name?”

Niall pulls his shit together, tries to ignore the heat in his cheeks and introduces himself.

Going from the bathroom area to the kitchen section and turning the corner, Zayn ends up among desks and office chairs. The fluorescent lights gives an illusion of day, even though Zayn thinks it’s probably already starting to get dark outside. Sat on the edge of a desk is Liam, staring into his phone. When Zayn approaches, he looks up. The same, warm smile he always has when he looks at Zayn doesn’t fail to sneak onto his face this time either, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. Zayn tries really hard not to smile back fondly, nodding his head instead. 

“I was just about to text you,” Liam says. “I think we’ve found what we want. Louis is in the bathroom though.”

“Yeah, well, Niall’s preoccupied at the moment.” Zayn sits on the desk next to Liam. Their thighs touch, but he doesn’t move. Neither does Liam.

“He always has to pee, everywhere we go. It’s like, all the time,” Liam blabbers, sounding slightly nervous, or maybe Zayn is just imagining things. “He has the weakest bladder, I swear, he once laughed to hard he peed his pants. In the middle of a restaurant. It was glorious.”

Zayn can’t help but bark a laugh at that, and Liam looks at him with triumph in his eyes. “Are you sure he wants you to tell that story to people?”

Liam shakes his head, “Actually, maybe don’t tell him you know,” he says giggling. 

“Promise,” Zayn says and puts a hand on Liam’s knee. He feels Liam go tense under his fingers when he slides his hand up just a bit. He looks up and meets Liam’s eyes and for a moment, they stay completely still. “First secret,” he breathes, tightening his fingers around Liam’s thigh. 

Liam’s eyes travel down to Zayn’s mouth, his own hanging just a tiny bit open, in disbelief or in arousal, Zayn doesn’t know and he doesn’t care. Liam is so close to him, he can feel the tiny puffs of air from his lips and it makes Zayn lean in, the tiniest bit, so slowly.

“Wonderful facilities! Just brilliant!” Louis’ voice pierces through the cloud that surrounds Zayn and Liam and they jump apart. Zayn stands up and takes a step away, Liam still sticking to the desk. “It was clean and lovely. A definite 7… what are you guys up to?”

Liam finds his voice first. ”Why do you always have to rate the loo every time you take a piss?” he spits.

Louis looks at him, dumbfounded for a beat of a second before he counters, “Well, I do have a certain admiration for a good, clean and most importantly, public toilet. There’s a certain kind of thrill in having sex in public, but a guy does have standards.”

“Do you have like, a little book of reviews hidden somewhere?” Zayn sniggers. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Or like, a TripAdvisor membership account. Is that why you always bring the phone with you to the toilet?” Liam chimes in. They both start chuckling and Louis waves them off.

“Idiots,” he mumbles. “Can we find the Irish lad now and go home? I’m bored of this place.

“Speaking of the devil,” Zayn says and tries to get Niall’s attention. He spots them and stalks towards them, rueful look on his face. 

“I don’t know what you guys are laughing at,” he mutters when he reaches them, “But I just found it that the girl I have been thinking about for over a week is a lesbian. A lesbian!” He looks at the three guys in front of him. “Tell me, do I attract gay people or something?”

“Like a magnet, baby,” Louis says and puts an arm round his shoulders. “Now please take us home, am in dire need of a good cup of tea. You could do with one, too.”

They start walking towards the stockroom and the exit, and if Liam and Zayn are very careful not to walk next to each other, that is more of a coincidence than it is on purpose, probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come! (Although I have an exam in a week and I haven't revised at all)
> 
> This might be a bit long, but don't worry, we'll get there sooner rather than later ... if you know what I mean.
> 
> Also, Harry is soon gonna be a much bigger part of the story. You'll see!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	3. Chapter 3

Liam has absolutely no fucking idea what is going on, okay? No fucking idea, and he is so frustrated.

Right, so first, Zayn smiles at him in the underground, which happened before they even knew each other, so he guesses it doesn’t count. It is quite a coincidence, though, and Liam can’t quite wrap his head around why they haven’t mentioned it, like, at all. Everyone knows it. Zayn knows it, Louis knows it, Liam knows it. Hell, Niall probably knows it, too, because him and Zayn are nearly inseparable. Now that they have all properly met, Niall has taken to hanging around the flat all the time.

“Go home, Horan!” Louis yelled the other night after Niall beat him in Fifa. “Get the fuck out of my flat you Irish traitor!”

“But I don’t wanna,” Niall had said, making his eyes big and puppy-like. “My grandma just discovered Apple TV and she’s watching Big Bang Theory back to back with the volume turned all the way up. I can’t stand being there!”

“Heeeey,” Zayn had protested. “No shade on Big Bang Theory!” He was very fittingly wearing a t-shirt saying ‘Sheldon For President’, the geek.

The point is, they are all aware of the fact that Liam and Zayn met in the underground before they even met each other and why they haven’t talked about this is only one of the things Liam is confused about. The other is the fact that Zayn had almost kissed Liam. He had almost KISSED Liam! Because what happened in Ikea was literally Zayn putting his hand on Liam’s thigh and then leaning in to kiss him. Right? When Liam told it to Louis after it had happened, Louis had just smiled and patted Liam on the shoulder as if it was nothing. However, ever since the Ikea trip, Zayn has barely spoken to Liam, much less looked his way. Liam gets that he’s not all that interesting, but why would Zayn so obviously flirt with Liam in one moment, only to completely ignore him in the next? And why is everyone acting like nothing is out of the ordinary? Why is everyone acting like it is not a problem that they’re living together but that there is some sexual tension going on between some of them? 

As Liam is pacing front and back between Louis’ bed and the window, rattling off all these thoughts, Louis is lying on said bed, absently leafing through a thin ream of paper, fastened together in the corner with a staple.

“The point is, I have no idea what to do about this. Do I talk to him? Do I ask him what was up? I’m not even sure what I want to get out of confronting him, like I’m not into him, I just think he’s good looking, but that’s all. And he is definitely not into me, he was probably just pulling my leg and also, we are… Louis?” Liam stops and looks indignantly at Louis. “Oi! Are you even listening?”

Louis looks up for a second, “Yes, I am enthralled by your truly riveting story. What a gripping tale.”

Liam just stares at Louis. “Thanks, man, thank you for listening. A+ friend, you are.”

Louis sighs heavily and sits up, crossing his legs. He lets the papers rest in his lap and throws his arms out dramatically. “Alright, alright, you can stop being sarcastic now, we wouldn’t want you to strain yourself. I’m sorry, Liam, but I am absolutely fucked, all right? I have to learn these lines by next week, but I don’t understand a single word. Not one!”

Liam takes a look at Louis and sees that he does indeed look stressed. He decides to let the subject rest, for now. “What are you reading?”

“I am trying to learn the lines of Hamlet and I hate Shakespeare. I hate him!”

“Are you playing Hamlet?” Liam says, baffled. Louis has not told him this.

“Well, maybe. I want the leading role but so does everyone else at the school.”

Liam pauses before asking, “What does this have to do with your degree?”

Louis looks at Liam as if that is the stupidest question he has ever asked. “Everything!”

“Right, okay. Well,” Liam sighs, “I can’t really help you, I have no grasp of English literature whatsoever.”

Louis just falls back against his pillows and groans. “It’s hard to be the prince of Denmark!”

“Don’t you just have to like, ask what it’s like ‘to be or not to be’?” Liam jokes.

From the way Louis stares daggers at him, it is clear to Liam that this is obviously no time for joking.

 

***

 

When Zayn walks into the office, he almost bumps into Niall who’s on his way out.

“That’s an unusually early lunch break, even for you.”

“Ha ha,” Niall fake laughs, “Get out of my way, I’m late.”

“Late for what, the McDonald’s breakfast? Sorry to disappoint you, it ended 10 minutes ago.”

“When you are done being funny, can you tell Katelyn I left the Harrison project on her desk? And also, do you wanna meet up at the pub by yours later?”

“Sure,” Zayn says even though it’s Monday and holds the door open for Niall. “But where are you going?”

“I’m doing the photo editing course today,” Niall says and waves his hand for goodbye. Zayn nods at him and wishes him luck. He’s going to need it. Zayn had to do a similar course when he first started working for the company as well. It was long and boring and he had known everything the old guy had monotonously hummed at them already. Niall has already worked for the company for almost a year, so Zayn doubts he’ll learning anything he doesn’t already know. 

Out on the street, Niall pops his collar and sticks his hands in the pockets of his coats. It is cold and windy, and the few flecks of snow that are being thrown around in the air hit him in the face, a reminder of December crisply approaching. As he walks towards the underground, he watches the shop windows already decorated with glittering fake snow and twigs of fir with shining baubles in all the colours of Christmas. The empty trees are dressed in string lights that aren’t yet lit. November is a month of waiting. November grey, cold and rainy. December, however, is snowy, cheerful and bright because of all the Christmas lights. December is also the month when Niall finally gets a couple of consecutive days off work so he can go back to Ireland and visit his family, whom he hasn’t seen in six months. He shakes his head, trying to steer his mind back to the project ahead, dugs into the underground and catches a train for Tottenham Court Road.

When Niall arrives at Soho Theatre, he is the last person to enter the room in which the course is taking place. It is like a small auditorium or a tiny theatre with a stage facing roughly ten rows of seats. All the seats in the back are occupied, and Niall walks to the very front. He sits down and opens his attaché case, pulling out his laptop and a bottle Juicy Water. He balances both in his lap while closing the bag and he doesn’t notice the woman walking down the aisle, past the rows of seats and onto the stage until she’s standing right in front of him. He looks up and the woman in thin nylon tights, a black, figure hugging skirt that ends just above her knees and a black, tight turtleneck top with long sleeves. Her blonde hair is straight and falls over the back of her shoulders. Her smile is kind but professional, directed confidently at the small crowd in front of her. She looks accomplished and so business-like that Niall at first doesn’t notice who she is. Then she speaks, and Niall instantly recognises her voice. He sits up a little straighter in his seat.

“Hi everyone!” she calls towards the crowd, “thank you for braving the cold and the wind to get here. I would like to apologize for re-scheduling. Our offices are still being renovated, and it’s taking longer than we expected. You might be wondering why we chose to relocate to a theatre of all places, but it was the best we could do with such short notice, and also, my brother works here so we got to borrow it for free, even though – between you and me – I think the old bugger in the big office could probably afford better, the cheap skate,” she holds an artistic pause in her speech while the people behind Niall chuckle. 

“Don’t tell him I said that. My name is Gemma, by the way, and you’re going to spend the afternoon under my mercy.” More people chuckle and Gemma sends smiles in the direction of all of them. Then her eyes meet Niall’s. 

“I, eh…” she trails away, eyes lingering on Niall’s face. He nods a tiny nod as if to say ‘yep, it’s me’ and smiles back at her. For a beat, she doesn’t move. She just stands on the stage, the lamp above bathing her in bright light. Then she shakes her head, laughs so softly that Niall only hears it because he’s on the front row, and continues her speech. She walks away from the side of the stage where Niall is sitting. 

“I am pleased to meet you,” she says to the other side of the audience. “There are different reasons for why you’re all here. Some of you are photographers, looking for an in-depth introduction to the works of editing. Some of you are newly sprouted multimedia designers sent here to learn all the things you missed if you didn’t pay attention in college. And then some of you,” she says, pausing, turning around and walking towards the centre of the stage, “some of you are here for unknown reasons.” 

She walks towards the edge of the stage and looks directly down at Niall. Sitting down in his seat, her knees are level with his eyes when she stands on the edge like that. He looks up and meets her eyes. He feels his cheeks starting to blush and hopes that it isn’t too noticeable. 

“Are you stalking me?” she asks him directly, but with her voice kept in the same level as when she speaks to the entire crowd. Everyone laughs, louder this time. Niall doesn’t. He shakes his head, any and all cheeky comebacks dissipated from his mind. She only winks at him in return.

“Right, moving on,” she says and walks towards the opposite side of the stage again. Niall sighs and opens his laptop to start taking notes. And yeah, he thinks to himself, he definitely does attract gay people.

After an hour and a half, Gemma’s voice has begun to go a little rough and at the end of a slide show, she turns to the group and calls for a 15 minute break. People start shuffling around with jackets and wallets. Most of them leave the auditorium. Niall follows them downstairs. Some go outside for a smoke, and some go to the café. Niall goes and orders a cup of coffee and finds a little table near the windows. He sits down and takes a sip, staring out at the people rushing past on the street. The chair on the opposite side of Niall’s table is pulled out, and Gemma slides into it. 

“So,” Gemma starts.

“So.” Niall says. He takes a sip of his coffee. “You’re good in there.”

“Thanks,” she nods. “So are you actually following me around or is this all just fortuitous?”

“Excuse me?” 

“Fortuitous. When something happens by chance rather than intention.”

“That’s a big word. Did you learn that definition by heart or are you just naturally pretentious?” Niall shoots, but sends her a smile.

“Oh stop it, you’re just mad because I’m a lesbian,” she grins at him

“A hot lesbian.”

She measures him with a short look. “Hmm, yeah. But a lesbian either way.”

“Well,” Niall says, “Lesbians can be gorgeous, too.”

Gemma leans back in her chair and smiles brightly at him. “And liars.”

“What?” Niall looks confusedly at her. 

“Liars,” Gemma repeats. “Lying is when people tell other people things that aren’t true.”

“Oh you don’t say! Thanks for once again acting a dictionary,” he says and rolls his eyes. “I’m not actually stupid.”

Her smile falters. “I never said you were. I’m just joking, Niall.”

He likes the way she says his name… but what does it matter. She’s gay.

“Don’t you get it?” She leans forward and crosses her arms on the table. Her hair falls onto the surface and she breathes in shortly, “I’m not actually gay.”

It takes a second. “Wh… what?” Niall swallows a too hot sip of coffee and winces at the burn.

“I’m not actually gay, Niall. I just…”

“Why the hell did you tell me you were?” Niall interrupts. She lowers her eyes to the table and the apples of her cheeks get a slight pink tinge. 

“I erh…”

“When I met you in Ikea you told me you were gay… because,” Niall widens his eyes as it hits him, “becaue you didn’t want to go out with me!” His voice rises at the last part and people at the nearby tables start looking at them.

Gemma casts a swift glance around and then looks back at Niall, her voice kept low. “Niall, come on, it’s the oldest one in the book. I just… I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings by giving you a straight up rejection. I panicked, like, a stranger in Ikea asked me out on a date, what was I supposed to do? I didn’t know anything about you other than what I’d learned in the Apple store, which, to be fair, was you boasting about a one-night stand throwing up on you. For all I knew you could be a charming homeless, Irish fuckboy… are you mad? Please don’t be mad…” she trails away when Niall starts chuckling. The chuckling evolves to a full on cackle, and Gemma is left staring at Niall with a confused, helpless look on her face.

“I can’t believe you’re not gay! Yes!” Niall throws a fist in the air. “Maybe I don’t attract gay people after all!”

“Excuse me?” it is Gemma’s turn to ask.

Niall stops laughing, but he can’t quite stop smiling. “Not that that’s a bad thing,” he hurriedly explains. “I love gay people.”

Gemma just stares at him, face expressionless, voice flat when she says, “You… love gay people?”

“Alright, that sounds wrong. I mean that in the least sexist, homophobic, or whatever, way. Like, I think people can love whoever they want, it doesn’t make them any less awesome. My best friend is gay – not that that’s supposed to be some kind of validation of me or anything.”

“But… so you’re not mad at me lying?”

“Well,” Niall says, “to be fair, that’s probably not the best foundation to base a friendship on, but you did just call me charming, so I suppose you can make it up to me on Friday.” He sends her an impish smile and she can’t hold one back herself.

“As much as I oppose the fact that you just assumed that I’m free-slash-willing to go out with you on Friday…” she guesses and holds his gaze, “alright. I’ll go. Just promise we’re not going on a boring dinner date.”

Niall laughs and says, “Gemma, you will soon learn that I’m not a boring-dinner-date type of person.”

“Good,” she says, “because I’m more of a beers-in-the-pub kinda girl.”

He empties his coffee and tries to silence the little guy in his head that wants him to cheer. 

“So,” he says instead, trying to distract Gemma from the fact that he’s smiling a little too wide, “Fortuitous, huh? A coincidence? Some coincidence, I must say.”

Gemma nods her head. “A chance occurrence, yes. But a lucky one; a fortunate one.”

“Fortunate?” 

“Indeed,” Gemma agrees, “Quite fortunate.”

 

***

 

Louis groans loudly and buries his face in his hands. On the desk before him is the play, next to an open Oxford Dictionary and a thin paperback titled “Hamlet – a guide to the play”. The books and the manuscript are all pushed away in frustration and Louis’ elbows are balanced on the edge of the table. That is how Zayn finds him when he walks into the kitchen on Wednesday afternoon. He goes to put on the kettle and props his elbows against the kitchen counter and glances over at Louis who hasn’t moved, hasn’t acknowledged Zayn’s presence but is still rubbing his face in his hands.

“Are you crying?” Zayn asks, “Do you need me to leave the room, or…?”

Louis still doesn’t look up. “I’m not crying,” he mumbles into his hands. He takes a deep breath and raises his head to look at Zayn. “Yet.”

The kettle is starting to boil. Zayn motions his head towards it. “D’you want a cup?”

Louis nods his head and pushes the empty teacup that is already on the table in front of him towards Zayn. Zayn takes it and starts preparing the cups. They have been living together for three weeks now, long enough for Zayn to know how Louis takes his tea, and that he is very adamant about the way it is made. He pours a little milk into his own mug and leaves the bottle next to Louis teacup in order to pour the milk in after the tea has soaked, very important, apparently. “So why are you all stressed out?” he asks Louis over his shoulder.

“Because I need to learn a monologue from Hamlet before Tuesday and am so bad at Shakespeare. Like, I never understood him, and I never understood what all the fuss is about either.”

Zayn shrugs, “As a drama student, don’t you kinda have to love Shakespeare by default?”

Louis glares as him and pulls the manuscript towards him. “Shut up.”

The kettle pops and Zayn pours the boiling water into the mugs, watching as it swirls and changes to golden brown. “You know,” he starts while he stirs honey into Louis’ cup. “I can help you if you need it.”

“What, are you a secret genius out in the Shakespearean literary devices?”

Zayn pours milk into Louis cup – an extreme amount, Zayn thinks – and goes to put it down in front of Louis. “Actually, I kind of am.”

Louis stares at him for a beat. “Well… Seriously?”

“Have more than thou showest, speak less than thou knowest,” Zayn cites. He picks up his own cup and sits down next to Louis.

“Excuse me?”

Zayn stares at Louis and shakes his head. “King Lear? No?” Louis just stares back. 

“Right,” Zayn says, “if you ever tell anyone this, I will actually kill you. I’m a massive Shakespeare geek.”

Louis lifts both eyebrows and mumbles down into his papers, “well, whatever floats your boat, weirdo.”

“If you’re going to be an ass about it, you can do it yourself. But I actually do know Hamlet and I’ll help you with your monologue if you want my help. It is easier to remember if you actually understand what it says.”

Louis takes a delicate sip of his tea. He waits for another moment before answering, “and what do you want in exchange for your exquisite knowledge?”

Zayn answers instantly, “Information about Liam.”

Louis chokes on his tea and coughs. He puts down his mug but instead of acting shocked and question Zayn, he puts his hand forward for Zayn to shake. “Deal.”

Zayn shakes Louis hand and when he lets go, he reaches out for the play and skims the page. “Right, so you’re going for the role of Hamlet, I assume?”

“Obviously.”

“So you’re reading the ‘To be, or not to be’ soliloquy?”

Louis frowns at Zayn. “Erh, what?”

“The monologue,” Zayn explains, “that starts with ‘To be, or not to be’. I mean, that is the obvious choice, isn’t it, but I guess it’s too late to change that now. How much of it do you understand?”

“Don’t antagonise me, man. Everyone else is probably reading that passage too, I know. But I thought that if I chose the same one as everyone else, then I would be brilliant in comparison.”

“If you learn it,” Zayn retorts.

“If I learn it, yeah,” Louis admits. “But that’s what you’re here for!”

“Right,” Zayn says. “So do you even know how to read it?”

Louis starts. He holds his hand up, palm faced upwards and fingers arched as if he is holding on to an invisible skull. He gets a faraway look in his eyes. “To be or not to be that’s the question. Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to –”

“No, no, no!” Zayn interrupts him. He glares at Zayn and lets his hand fall back to the table.

“What?” he spits.

“Louis, you’re saying it all wrong. There’s a rhythm you have to follow. This is poetry, not just your average play. Have you ever heard of iambic pentameter?”  
Louis just sits there, looking lost. “Yambig pen-what?”

“I-ambic pentameter,” Zayn says slowly. “It is the kind of verse almost all of Shakespeare’s texts are written in. It is a rhythm, you need to follow it when you say your parts. I can’t believe you haven’t been taught this already.”

Louis slumps his shoulders. “I never paid much attention in English. As soon as they said ‘Shakespeare’ I just closed down.” He puts his forehead to the table. “This is impossible,” he mumbles.

Zayn gets up and leaves the kitchen. Louis looks after him with wide eyes. “Don’t give up on me!” he calls after Zayn.

A moment later, Zayn comes back with paper and pens and his laptop. “I’m not giving up if you’re not giving up, mate,” he promises.

For almost three hours, they are completely emerged in the play. Zayn draws figures and charts on the pieces of paper and shows Louis YouTube videos. Louis listens carefully, hangs on to every word Zayn says. They pause at one point to make another cup of tea and order pizza. By the end of it, Louis knows the whole monologue – well, soliloquy – by heart and he knows the rhythm. He sits back against his chair and rubs his eyes. Zayn nibbles off the thin part of the pizza as close to the crust as he can, and then flips the crust onto the empty, greasy cardboard box.

“So,” Louis sighs, “I think I’m ready. I think I’m actually ready. Thanks man.” He punches at Zayn’s shoulder, lightly.

“No worries mate.”

“Tell me, now,” Louis says and his lips turn into a sly smile. “What do you want to know about our dear Liam?”

Zayn jerks his head up as if he forgot he had said this to Louis in the first place. “Erh,” he mumbles, “I don’t know, just… forget about that.”

“Do you like him?” Louis asks directly.

Zayn meets his eyes for a second before lowering his own to the pizza crusts. “No,” he says, picking one up and starting to pick off little crumbs. “I just don’t know him very well and I’d… I think I’d like to.”

“Know him how?” Louis asks mercilessly.

“Better,” Zayn says.

Louis crosses his arms. He looks directly at Zayn, gaze and voice unwavering when he says, “Zayn, Liam is my best friend. I have known him forever and he is the one person in this world I care most for. If you ever are to toy with his feelings, I will have to kill you, but you seem like a stand up guy, so let me tell you this one thing: Liam is not like your average guy. He’s a really good one. He is a little awkward and a little shy, but he has a heart of gold and he falls easily and quickly. If you really do like him, be gentle with him. He is quite inexperienced and frankly, he is quite naïve and well, oblivious, too. So if you genuinely like him… I mean, you need to be sure that you actually do like him because if you lead him on only to send him away, you will break his heart and I will break your face.”

Zayn blinks once, twice, three times. He opens his mouth and closes it again. Finally, he settles on saying, “bit early to give me ‘the talk’, mate.”

“Better safe than sorry in this case, I’d say.”

“You really do care for him a lot, huh?” Zayn drags a hand through his hair.

“Dude, I care for that guy more than I care for myself. And that’s a lot, coming from me.”

Zayn just nods his head, and they’re both quiet for a while. Then Louis starts to gather his books and papers and Zayn chucks the crumbled remains of the pizza crust back in the box. They both get out of their chairs and clean up the teacups and throw away the pizza box. Louis is on his way out of the kitchen, books and papers under his arm, when Zayn mumbles something from his position by the sink. Louis turns around. 

“What’s that?”

Zayn looks up at him, face earnest. “Thank you, you know.”

Louis cocks his head to the side. “For what?”

Zayn selects his words carefully. “For trusting me enough to give me ‘the talk’”. 

Louis smile comes softly and slowly, but with warmth. “’S alright, mate. Anytime.”

He walk out of the kitchen. Zayn leans back against the counter, chuckles to himself and shakes his head. Having flatmates doesn’t suck as much as he thought it would.

 

***

 

Liam fiddles with his wallet and takes just the tiniest nanosecond too long finding his Oyster card. The queue to the gates stop when he stands in front of it, still digging desperately to get his card out. The man behind him sneers something along the lines of ‘fuckin’ idiot’ at him and pushes past. He bumps into Liam when he passes, and Liam drops his wallet just as he gets a hold of his Ouster card. The wallet falls onto the floor on the other side of the gate. Before Liam can scan his card and get through, some guy has picked up Liam’s wallet. Liam calls out for him to stop. The guy looks up at Liam with a smirk.

“Relax, man, I’m only trying to help you. Here you go.” He presses the wallet into Liam’s hand, and before Liam can stutter out a confused thanks, the guy has disappeared into the rush of people. Liam looks down at the black leather wallet in his hand, frowns and opens it. It’s empty, save for his few plastic cards.

“Shit,” he mumbles. He had just taken out money. He sighs heavily, puts the wallet back in his pocket and keeps his hands there. Slumped and annoyed, he walks towards his train. When he turns the corner to the tunnel leading to his platform, the voice of the usual busker reaches him along with the strummed guitar notes. He recognizes the song vaguely.

“… and so I fall in love just a little, oh just a little bit, every day with someone new, I fall in love just a little…” the guy’s song fades to a stop when Liam walks by without even looking up. Liam thinks it is unfair that just because he doesn’t give the busker money this one time, he takes offence. 

“Hey,” the busker yells after Liam. 

Liam turns around, ready to say something when the guy beats him to it, “Cheer up, babe! I just fell in love with you a little bit again today!” He gives Liam the thumbs up and his usual blinding smile.

Totally astounded, Liam stops dead in his tracks and gapes at the guy, who just chuckles and turns his focus back to the guitar and continues to play. 

“There's an art to life's distractions, to somehow escape the burning weight, the art of scraping through…” the guy starts singing again.

Someone bumps into Liam from behind, then someone else almost walks smack into him and he has to start walking again. Smiling now, he continues down the tunnel but turns his head one last time before walking onto the platform and instantly meets the big, warm eyes of the busker, still singing, “… Love with every stranger, the stranger the better…” 

 

 

***

 

 

Louis is sitting in his room, memorising lines and eating early dinner when he hears a key turn in the lock. He checks the clock. Just past 5pm. It is too early for Liam to be home, so he calls out.

“Zayn?”

For a second, no one answers, then there’s a bump and, “bloody rug.” 

That was not Zayn. Louis gets up and goes to open his door. In the hallway, Niall is battling the rug on the floor and his shoelaces, all at once. Louis lifts a brow.

“Niall? How did you get in?”

Niall looks up at Louis, slightly red in the cheeks from his endeavour with the rug. “Erh, Zayn gave me a key a couple of weeks back.”

Louis just shrugs and steps out of his room. “Tea? Fifa?”

“Pizza?” Niall asks.

Louis goes to the kitchen and finds the leftover slices from yesterday and pops the kettle. Niall comes in as well and slumps into a chair. 

“So,” Louis says, putting a slice on a plate in front of Niall, “how come you didn’t just move in with Zayn? You’re looking to move out from your grandparents’, no?”

Niall has a mouthful of pepperoni and cheese and takes a moment to chew before he answers, “Yeah. But, you see, I have a good thing going, money-wise. I don’t pay to live with my grandparents, bless their souls. I save money on rent. I mean, it is annoying sometimes, for me and them both, I think, but it’s only temporary. I say that I wanna go travelling, and that’s true. From where I’m looking at it, if I pay half my salary in rent each month, that’s just money that I could have put towards traveling. That’s money I’m never getting back, you know? Money down the drain, out the window–”

“I get you,” Louis interrupts, “go on.”

“Right,” Niall says, “so the way I see it, if I just hold out a little longer, I will have saved up quite a large sum of money, and then I can buy a flat instead of renting.”

Louis looks at him, disbelievingly. “BUY a flat? In London? What are you, a millionaire? 50 years old? No one simply buys in London.”

“Well,” Niall shrugs, “my parents had saved quite a large sum of money before they died and I inherited parts of that, parts went to my older siblings and the rest went to my grandparents to secure a good childhood and education for me. What can say, I’m an adult now. I saved up money myself, too, and with that and the money from my parents, I have enough to buy a place. I just feel like… it’s my parents’ money, really. I want to secure it, not just waste it away. They would have wanted that.”

Louis has lowered his eyes and stares resolutely at his hands, lying flat on the table in front of him. He takes a couple of seconds before he answers.  
“I, eh… I’m sorry, Niall. I didn’t know.”

Niall lifts his shoulders and let them fall. “Nah, mate, it’s cool. You couldn’t know. It’s awful, yeah, but it’s so long ago. I’m fine, you know? I mean, losing your parents is not a thing that’s ever going to stop hurting, but in time, you get used to the pain and don’t feel it in the same way. Like, it’ll always be there, in my body, it’ll always be a dull little prick in my heart whenever I think of them, but it’s not a constant thing.”

Louis wishes he knew what to do with himself. He wishes he knew whether to smile at Niall or frown as a show of sympathy or hug him or pat his shoulder. All he really wants to do is hide and maybe cry a little bit, but that’s so selfish. Instead, he swallows once and offers Niall the last slice of pizza. That’s the least he can do.

“I mean,” Niall says, “pity pizza is definitely one of the perks of being an orphan!” 

He takes the slice and bites off it. It lifts Louis’ mood a little. 

“How did they die?” he asks softly.

“Car accident, when I was 7. On December 23rd. My dad had picked up my grandparents at the airport and driven them back up to our place because they were staying over Christmas. Then he went into the city to get my mum who had done some last minute shopping. They just never came back home.”

The kitchen is quiet and the rain is gently thrumming on the window. Louis drags his mug over the surface of the table and lifts it to his mouth to take a sip. Niall looks at the last bit of pizza in his hand before he props it in his mouth and brushes his hands against each other to get rid of the durum crumbs. 

“Anyway,” he says, “I turned out just fine. I have a big sister and brother, they’re in their start thirties. I was kind of an accident. My mom and dad didn’t think they could still have children, I think, but then I came along and got spoiled by everyone. My sister is 9 years older than me, and my brother is 11 years older. I love ‘em to bits. And my grandparents were great at raising me. I guess they had practice. When my siblings moved out, my grandparents moved back to London and took me with them, and here I am. London is my home now. The rest of my family still live in Ireland, though.”

“Do you miss them?” Louis asks.

“Every day, but I see them during holidays and my sister is a freelance editor, she travels to London regularly, so I see her often enough.”

Louis nods his head. He doesn’t know what to say. 

“It’s kind of a sad story, I know.” Niall says. “But it sounds worse when I tell it. I’m actually really happy here. I have a good, loving family in Ireland and I have some amazing friends here. I’m, yeah… I’m happy. And I really feel like we have a good thing brewing, too.”  
“We?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, us. You, me, Zayn, Liam. I really like hanging out with you guys. You’re good people.”

“Aww,” Louis coos, “you, too, Niall.”

Niall clears his throat and straightens up a bit. It just got a little too sappy, so to balance things out, he punches Louis on the shoulder. “Thanks, mate.”

Louis pushes back at Niall, laughing. “Anytime, bro.”

In that moment, Zayn comes through the front door, a total mess from the weather. His hair dripping onto his shoulders and his tie hangs loose. His jacket is half off one arm, and while trying to get it all the way off, his white shirt underneath clings wetly to his chest and rides up a little bit to show off a streak of smooth skin above the line of his black jeans. His lashes are glued together from the rain and a few strands of inky black hair has fallen down over his forehead. He nods a short hello to Niall and Louis through the door to the kitchen and goes to hang his jacket on the coat rack and slip off his drenched shoes.

“Don’t let Liam see you like that,” Louis calls after him.

Zayn walks into the kitchen, quizzical look on his face. “What?”

Niall sniggers. Louis is all mirth and teeth shown in a wide smile when he says “You’d give him a heart attack. Or a boner.”

Niall bursts a laugh at that. “Probably both.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Idiots.”

He goes to the fridge and opens it, stares into the white void for 30 full seconds and then turns around. “Did you fuckers eat the rest of the pizza?”

Niall tries to look innocent while simultaneously brushing off crust crumbs from his sweater. Louis hands Zayn a random menu from a pile of them on table.

“Here, pick something out and I’ll phone them and order, I’m already hungry again. I sacrificed the last piece of pizza for Niall.”

Zayn takes the pamphlet and looks down at the Chinese signs. He sighs heavily. “I’m tired of take-away.”

“We need someone who can cook,” Louis says.

Zayn looks at Niall. “On that subject, Niall, how did your date go?”

Niall goes red and Louis perks his head up. “Your date?”

“Yeah,” Zayn explains, “Remember the Ikea girl? Turns out she’s a prof photographer and Niall went to a photo editing course, and guess who was the course leader? Ikea girl!”

“Her name is Gemma,” Niall interrupts.

“Whatever,” Zayn continues.

“But I thought she way gay?” Louis says.

“Point is, she agreed to go on a date with Niall tomorrow, but then after the course was over, she asked if they shouldn’t just kill two birds with one stone and go out for something to eat that same day. So tell me, how was it?”

“Wait, so she’s not gay?” Louis says again.

“No.” Niall and Zayn answers in unison. 

“Then well done, mate,” Louis congratulates and takes the menu from Zayn, who tells Louis to order number 37 while looking expectantly at Niall.

“Right, so…” Niall starts. “I mean, you know how it is, I see someone, I like the look of them, I fall for them instantly, ask them out, take them home and call them back once or twice, tops.”

“Same old,” Zayn agrees.

“Yeah, and then I’m on to the next girl I instantly fall for because I have no attention span whatsoever. Like, I’m an asshole, really. But this girl is different.”

Zayn clasps his hand over his mouth. “But Niall! Did I just hear you say that this girl is different?”

“I thought I was the dramatic, sarcastic one,” Louis points out.

“Seriously though,” Niall says, “she takes me to this sushi place and I’m like damn, that’s trying a little hard, but I go along with it. Then she sits down and looks at mi with her big brown eyes and tells me that she genuinely loves sushi but she never learned how to eat with sticks, and she goes ahead and uses her fingers like she doesn’t give a fuck.”

“That’s how you know it’s true love,” Louis nods his head, “when the chick eats with her fingers.”

“No but actually, she’s really funny!” Niall continues. “She had me spitting out my sake laughing. And then we go take a cap and when we get in, she asks my address and I tell her, and she repeats it to the driver and leans back in her seat like that’s nothing.”

“So you like her because she jumped directly in bed with you?” Zayn grunts.  
“In your grandparent’s house?” Louis asks, exasperated. “Damn, she’s feisty.”

Niall shakes his head. “No. I like her because we never even got to that part. I like her because we fell asleep on the couch, talking about our lives. I like her because she is easy as fuck to talk to and because I feel like I already know her really well, and all the other clichés. I like her because she has a fantastic laugh and because she woke me up really early in the morning and asked if I wanted to go with her to Hyde Park for a photoshoot she had to do in the morning mist. And it was so much fun.”

“That sounds absolutely horrible,” Louis says warily. Zayn nods in agreement.

“It really does, but the point is that it wasn’t. Like, it was… I wanted to go with her on that photoshoot. I wanted to be with her. So we went out on Tuesday evening too. And I slept over at her place yesterday and met her brother this morning.”

Zayn’s eyes widen. “You… what?”

“You met her family?” Louis says, mouth hanging open.

“No, her brother, just her brother,” Niall says. “He stays on her couch, currently. He was the one she was calling about the room for, remember?”

It dawns on Zayn. “Right, she said so in the Apple store.”

“Exactly,” Niall nods.

“What a weird coincidence,” Zayn mumbles.

“So how was he?” Louis asks.

“Who, Harry? He was really awesome, actually,” Niall tells them, “and erh, you’ll have a chance to judge for yourselves. She wants us all to go out tomorrow. She wants to meet my friends and she wants me to meet Harry when were not both in out boxers, she said,” Niall recalls, and gets a faraway, dreamy look on his face.

Louis cocks a brow. “She wants to meet your friends? This is progressing very quickly, young Niall.”

“No, I want you guys to meet her, too. It was my idea to invite you guys along, actually. So yeah, if you wanna come along? It’s just downstairs, tomorrow after work.”

“Sure,” Zayn says. “I’ll be there.”

“’Course, mate,” Louis chimes in, “I’ll tell Liam, too.” 

Niall nods, smiling a very wide smile and reaches for the menu, too. They call in their order and then they all go to the living room, playing Fifa while waiting for their food.

 

***

 

Liam checks his clock. He is meeting the guys at the pub downstairs from their flat in half an hour. He’s on his way down the stairs to the underground, but he knows he’s going to be late, especially if there are delays. When he turns the same corner to walk down the same tunnel he knows so well, he instantly knows that something is different, something is missing. It takes him a couple of seconds before he realises what, but when he sticks his hand into his pocket to feel around for loose change, it occurs to him. No guitar notes are flowing through the tunnel today, no song being sung. When he walks past the place where the busker usually sits, it is empty, too, and it looks all weird. Of course the guy isn’t always there, but Liam has gotten more use to his presence than his absence. The tunnel seems empty now, missing the soft strum of guitar strings and the raspy, pleasant hum of his voice. Thinking of the last time he walked past him, the playful smile on his face when he said those things to Liam, makes a tiny smile tug on Liam’s own lips. He shakes the thoughts of the busker when the train pulls up in front of hum and people start to filter out onto the platform.

When he gets to Judd Street, the air icy in his face, he is met with the shine of the neon sign in the window of the pub, blinking lazily at him. He checks his clock again, and somehow, he has managed to be only 5 minutes late. He reaches the pub in fast strides and walks in the door, looking around for his friends. He sees none of them. There are not many people in the pub either, considering it’s a Friday evening. Two guys are sitting on the stools at the bar, cheering in golden pints of beer, having a loud conversation about something Liam can’t quite discern because their words are drunkenly slurred. At the table by the window, a couple are sitting on opposite sides of each other, deep in conversation, the girl playfully shoving at the guy’s shoulder because of something he said that are making the girl crack a smile and the guy’s shoulders shake, probably from laughing as well. In the other side of the pub, in the very corner, a lonely guy is sitting, staring distractedly into his glass. The bartender is leaning over the counter, talking to a woman Liam has seen frequenting the bar before. Apart from her, Liam knows none of the others. The bartender pauses his conversation briefly and looks over at Liam as the doorbell chimes, nodding a swift ‘hello’ at Liam when he recognises him. Liam stands awkwardly in front of the door for a moment, fiddling and looking around for an empty table. The girl at the table by the window looks up and sees him standing there, and she says something to the guy, who has his back towards Liam. Then the guy turns around, and Liam meets his eyes. They both realise at the same time who the other is. The guy at the table starts smiling widely and Liam starts blushing immediately. 

“Of all the gin joints,” the busker says, waving Liam towards their table. Liam concedes and walks over, willing the heat in his cheeks to go away. 

“I know you,” the busker tells Liam. His girlfriend smiles at him with polite interest. “You’re the guy who always gives me pound coins.”

“Yeah,” Liam mutters, still thrown off by the whole thing. He looks back over his shoulder when the bell chimes and someone walks in, but the new guy loudly joins the two who are already at the bar. “I eh… you’re really good.”

The busker smiles even wider than before, and Liam wonders if his mouth can stretch much further. He holds his hand out to Liam, “My name is Harry. Nice to actually meet you!”

Liam takes his hand as the bell jingles again, and the girl’s face lights up immediately. She stands up and calls brightly towards someone behind Liam, “Niall, over here!”

Liam whips his head around and sees Niall, eyes glowing, walking towards them. For a moment, Liam is utterly confused.

“I see you met Gem and Harry already,” Niall says and pats Liam’s shoulder when he reaches their table. 

“Oh,” Gemma says.

“Wait, what?” Harry asks, still holding on to Liam’s hand.

“Erh…” Liam mumbles, confusion quickly dissipating, “apparently so.”

They all look at each other, and then the three of them burst out laughing. 

“What?” Niall says, looking at each of them in turn.

“Apparently, these two already know each other,” Gemma says, motioning towards Harry and Liam.

“Really?” Niall asks and gives Gemma a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry I’m late,” he mumbles against it.

“Well, not actually,” Liam says. “Just from the underground where–”

“The underground?” Niall interrupts, sitting down in the chair next to Gemma. “Tell me, Liam, do you meet all your men in the underground?”

Liam instantly goes red again and mumbles, “He’s not…”

Harry crackles a laugh. “I’m busking down there sometimes,” he tells Niall. “This one always tosses a coin at me, each time he passes. Still haven’t figured out if he likes my music or if he tries to hit me in the face.”

“It’s probably because you’re good,” Niall says.

“He tries to hit you in the face,” Gemma insists.

“Actually, I think you’re very talented,” Liam says.

Harry gives him a glance out the side of his eye and bumps playfully into Liam’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

Liam shrugs and hangs his jacket over the back of his chair. “Do anyone want anything from the bar, or do you want to wait for the others?” 

“Don’t bother,” Niall sighs, “they’re not coming.”

“What?” Liam asks, scrunching his brows. “Why?

“Zayn got held up at work and Louis had to go to the theatre to do some last minute practicing, apparently. I don’t know, they had to cancel,” Niall looks down and a tiny flash of disappointment strikes his face.

“I’ll meet them another day,” Gemma says and takes his hand, and Niall seems to forget everything else.

“I’ll get us some drinks.” Liam fishes his wallet out of his pocket.

“I’ll help,” Harry says and joins Liam on his way to the bar.

Liam is not good at social encounters with new people. At all. He never has been, and even though it has gotten a little better with age, he is still awkward about it, and he knows. So when Harry trails behind him towards the bar, he thinks hard about what to say, how to start the conversation. His mind drifts towards the last time they met each other in the underground, and he feels his damn cheeks once again starting to go red. ‘Cheer up, babe! I just fell in love with you a little bit again today’ he had said. Obviously he had just been joking, trying to cheer Liam up. He seemed like the jokey type, Liam thought. When the bartender sees them approaching, he meets Liam with a smile.

“Hi’ Liam, how’s it going? What do you kids want?”

The corner of Liam’s mouth tugs down a bit at the ‘kids’. They’re in their start 20’s – definitely not kids. The bartender is old, though, somewhere in his 60’s and Liam likes him. He lets it pass.

“Can I have two pints of Guinness please, and…” he realises he doesn’t know what to order for Harry and Gemma.

“Make that four,” Harry cuts in from beside Liam. He smiles that warm, genuine smile at the bartender, who reaches for four glasses and start drawing the pints.

Liam wonders how it is possible for this guy to seem so genuinely happy or polite or interested or whatever it is, in absolutely every stranger he meets. 

“So, what do you do, apart from busking in London’s underground on the odd day?” Liam asks.

Harry balances his arms flat against the bar top and leans his entire body down against his arms, looking up at Liam with those kind, green eyes. “Ah, Liam, I do a little bit of everything.”

Liam places his arms in the same position as Harry’s and leans down a bit to be at the same level as him. “Do tell,” he urges Harry on.

“Well,” Harry starts, “I busk for fun, because I like playing music, I like singing to people. Obviously, my childhood dream of becoming a famous singer-songwriter one day is a contributing facter as to why I ridicule myself on the streets and in the tunnels beneath London every now and then–”

“You don’t,” Liam interrupts. “I mean, ridicule yourself, that is. You’re actually really good.”

Harry straightens up and gives Liam a long, indecipherable look. “Yeah, you keep saying that.”

Liam looks down on his hands. “Well, I mean it,” he mumbles.

“Anyway,” Harry continues, “Apart from that, I work a few hours at The Cuban and as one of those dressed up zombie ghosts who scare people in London Dungeons. I work sometimes at Soho Theatre and sometimes as a guide in Tower of London. I can tell you the weirdest facts about Tower. Did you know that at least six ravens are kept on the grounds inside the walls at all times? Legend says that if the ravens leave the castle, the kingdom will fall.”

This makes Liam laugh. “What? That’s absolutely amazing.”

“Yeah, and there are ghosts as well, if you believe in that kinda stuff. It’s pretty cool, actually.” Harry nods and takes a sip of one of the two ready pints now spreading rings of condensation on the bar top in front of them.

“So that’s all?” Liam asks jokingly.

Harry shrugs. “Actually, no. I also sometimes work in a flower shop in Shoreditch and I just got another side job in a bakery out in Camberwell.”

Liam just looks at him, completely in awe. “Wow, and I think I’m stressed.”

Harry just shrugs again. “you know, it pays the bills and stuff. And more importantly, it pays tuition fees.”

“Tuition fees? For what?”

Harry turns his beer glass around and presses his finger against the little beads of condensation on the glass. “I do some uni courses,” he says.

Liam shakes his head. “How do you have time?”  
“Easy,” Harry says, “if you add up all my little odd jobs, they don’t amount to more that, well, little more than a part-time job, maybe. 25 hours a week or so. And then I have classes 15 hours a week. It’s not at tough as it sounds.”

“It’s pretty cool though. What kind of classes do you take?” Liam pays for the beers and grabs two glasses, Harry carrying the other two. They walk back to the table.

“I’ve studied History and politics last year,” Harry explains. “Right now I’m doing creative writing and English lit. But enough about me,” he puts down a glass in front of Gemma, the one he already sipped at, “what about you? What do you do with your time?” He tries to swat Gemma’s hand away when she switches their glasses.

“Liam is being James Bond when we don’t look,” Niall throws in.

Harry laughs heartily, “I can see that!”

Liam groans. “That’s not true,” he chuckles.

“Then make it up,” Gemma says, lifting her glass to cheer them.

They spend the rest of the evening laughing and listening to Niall telling stories and Harry talking about the many different people he encounters when busking. They take turns talking about awkward situations they’ve been caught in or telling each other about unsuccessful holidays, and it’s just fun, and really, really easy. Liam quite likes Harry. There is something about him, some way in which he makes everyone around him feel comfortable. Liam can see them becoming easy friends already, and that’s a rare thing for Liam. He doesn’t feel shy around Harry, though, or around Niall or Gemma for that matter. It occurs to him as they sit there, that he doesn’t really know any of them that well. Or, he didn’t, that is, until tonight. He looks at Gemma and Niall, how they sit with just the tiniest amount of space between them, signifying that they’re holding hands underneath the table. He looks at Harry who is animatedly telling a story about a guy who was so hung-over he threw up on the exhibition case holding the crown jewels. He smiles for himself and thinks that, for the first time in a while, he feels completely, truly happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, so I hope you enjoyed this, even though nothing much was actually happening.
> 
> In the next chapter, Harry will meet the rest of them and stuff will go down. I have finished my exams and have gone on holiday, so I should have more time to write! 
> 
> See ya soon!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm REALLY sorry this took so long! I hope you are still here to read it though, and that you'll still enjoy it! The next one will definitely not take as long, since I'm back to school and the creative juices are flowing again :D 
> 
> To make up for the long wait, here is almost 18 pages worth of Louis, Liam, Zayn, Niall and Harry.

4

 

 

The thing is, Harry makes Liam feel really good. He makes him feel comfortable, at ease, which is rare in new people. So when Liam is on his way home on Monday afternoon and Harry is back at his usual spot in the tunnel, singing The Monkees' Daydream Believer, Liam goes to stand next to Harry instead of going to the platform. Harry gives him a quick smile and a nod of his head. Liam leans against the wall, listening to Harry's voice, watching his hands, his fingers fiddling skilfully with the guitar strings. He watches the vibrations of the strings as he strums them. Then Liam starts to notice the passers-by's. Some are visibly in a rush, in their own world just heading for wherever it is that they're going. But more people than not, even in the afternoon rush hour, slow down in their tracks when they come closer, walking past Harry ever so slowly, soaking up as much of his song as they can before they have to speed up again and continue their day. Some people even stop altogether, standing for just a moment, listening intently, letting his warm, rasp voice wash over them. All of them leave with a newly lit smile in their eyes. The pleasant hum of Harry's song is accompanied by the constant clacks of shoes against the tile floors and with a backdrop of the occasional echo of a train pulling up at and then leaving the platform further down the tunnel. Quite often, the clink of yet another coin tossed in the pile in the guitar case in front of their feet cheerfully disturbs the balance of the sounds. Liam closes his eyes and takes it all in, as Harry ends the song with an a Capella last verse.

"Cheer up sleepy Jean, oh what can it mean, to a daydream believer and a homecoming queen..." 

Two girls walking by giggle and clap their hands enthusiastically and smile indicatively at Harry. He puts his palms together and does a little bow, his curls falling into his eyes when he straightens up again. They giggle harder and lean into each other whispering as they walk away. 

"You certainly know how to woo the ladies," Liam chuckles.

Harry puts the guitar down, leaning it against the wall and turns to Liam. He contemplates his answer, looking Liam over. He's wearing a grey, soft looking button-up shirt and black jeans under a black coat. Harry cocks a brow. 

"The guys too, I hope," he retorts.

Liam's smile slips a bit but he gathers himself quickly. "That too, I guess."

Harry lifts one shoulder impishly, then lets it fall and bends down to collect the coins from the guitar case. 

"So what brings you here, Liam?"

"Well, I was on my way home," Liam starts, before Harry interrupts him.

"But then you just missed me so much you thought you'd ask me out?" He flashes his white teeth blindingly at Liam.

"Erh," Liam says and glances at his watch, "sure?"

Harry chuckles and locks the lid over his guitar and slings the case over his shoulder. He motions his head towards the platform. "Lead the way." 

Liam nods and walks towards the train that's just pulling up. They get in, and Liam sits down while Harry keeps standing, careful not to bump into anyone with his guitar case. 

"So, where do you live?" Liam asks.

Harry laughs quietly. "On my sister's couch."

Liam raises his brows. "Really? Isn't that tiring?"

"Nah," Harry sighs, "it's fine, for now. But like, I think my sister is pretty tired of it though. Especially now with the new thing with Niall, you know."

Liam nods knowingly and they both smile crookedly. "They seem really happy, though. I haven't known Niall long but I can tell she really makes him happy."

Harry nods, "Yeah, it goes both ways. Niall is a great guy."

"He truly is," Liam agrees. "Anyway, so where does your sister live? What's your stop?"

Harry bites his lip a little and Liam shouldn't notice this, but he does. Letting his lip escape his teeth, he says, "I'm not going there."

"Huh," Liam scrunches his brows, "where then?"

"With you?" Harry says and it's more a question than an answer.

Liam's eyes widen slightly. He notices that it's somewhat warmer than usual in the train but he doesn't know why. He swallows. "Erh, sure? I was just going home though."

"That's fine!" Harry leans against a yellow pole. The train rattles a bit and he grabs it, holding on a little tighter as to not topple over with the guitar case on his bag weighing him down. Liam hasn't spent much time with Harry so far, but he's seen him knock over an entire pint, shove his guitar into the shoulder of a guy passing a little too closely and stumble over sockets enough times to know that Harry is clumsy. Like, very clumsy. 

"Right, so... what do you wanna do then?" Liam asks.

"I was thinking we could go for a pint at the pub downstairs from yours? I liked that place. And we could bring the lads, if they're home."

Liam calculates the time quickly in his head and figure that Zayn should be home by now, but Louis won't be home until late tonight. "Sure thing." 

Harry nods once, satisfied look on his face and Liam shakes his head a little, smiling to himself. He has a feeling Harry often gets things the way he wants, and that no one really has a problem with it being that way either. Harry is the kind of guy people wants to accommodate. His presence makes people comfortable. When he smiles, it makes people feel special. Or maybe that's just Liam.

When they get to Kings Cross, they get off and make their way up the intricate tunnel system. The walk to the flat is not too long, but it is cold out and they walk fast to keep warm and get it over with. When they reach their building, Liam heads for the pub but Harry stops behind him, treading water. 

"I uh, I was thinking... can we go put our bags and stuff at your place first?"

Liam had forgotten about the guitar case on Harry's bag. "Oh right, of course!"

Harry relaxes his shoulders. "Thanks mate. Sorry for inviting myself up."

Liam laughs, "no bother!"

They climb the stairs and Liam walks straight in, the door unlocked. He calls out for Zayn who immediately sticks his head out the bedroom door. 

"Hey Li," he says and spots Harry behind Liam. "And hey Liam's friend."

"This is Harry," Liam explains.

Harry steps up to Zayn and sticks his hand out. "Hi Zayn, nice to finally meet you!"

Zayn shakes his hand but casts Liam a sideways, questioning glance. "Erh, sure, nice to meet you, too... finally?"

"Niall has been talking so much about you," Harry says. "I'd think he was in love with you if it wasn't for the fact that my sister has very thin walls."

Liam laughs loudly but it takes a moment for Zayn to catch up. 

"Your sist... oh, you must be Gemma's brother!"

"That I am," Harry confirms.

"So you're that Harry," Zayn says, "who almost got to be my room mate."

Harry puts down his guitar case, letting it lean against the wall. "Excuse me?"

"That story," Liam says, "is better told over a beer, don't you think? Wanna come downstairs with us, Zayn?"

Zayn shrugs his shoulders. "Sure," he says and goes to pull on his boots. 

Harry and Liam wait for him to tie them, and Harry steals a look at Zayn while he's occupied with the laces. He's obviously attractive, with a rough dusting of stubble on his jaw and sharp cheekbones. He has long, dark lashes that hides his eyes as he's looking down, concentrating on tying his shoes, and his hair is jet black and soft looking. It is free of product, and Harry contemplates if this is the usual style for Zayn, because from the look of his clothes, he seems like a guy who would normally style his hair. Apart from his universally good looks, Zayn has an aura of arrogance or maybe it's just a façade, a wall to hide behind because he's maybe quite shy underneath. Harry has always prided himself for being good at reading people. Liam is kind and open, even though he, too, is shy at first. This one, however is so obviously closed off. On the other hand, Harry thinks to himself, if Liam is friends with Zayn, he must be a good person underneath that façade, and from what Niall has told him, he can only conclude good things. Harry chances a quick look at Liam, too, and is surprised to find Liam studying Zayn in the same way Harry himself had just done, if not a little more intensely. It's almost as if-

"Right," Zayn exclaims, straightening up. "Let's go then."

They all walk back down the stairs, chatting about work and uni. When they have found a table in the pub, which is busy today, Liam goes to buy them a round of beer and Zayn looks Harry over.

"So," he says, "how come you and Liam decided to go out for beers?"

"We ran into each other in the tube," Harry answers.

"Randomly?"

"Nah," Harry locks eyes with Zayn and decides to test a theory. "He knows where to find me."

Zayn frowns. "Where to find you? What do you mean, ‘he knows where to find you’?"

Harry scrunches his nose, trying to hide his grin. "Well, we run into each other quite often."

Zayn's frown deepen. "By chance?"

"Not really," Harry says. "We-"

"Take one quickly or I'll drop them!" Liam interrupts, trying to hold on to three slippery pints.

Harry reaches out for one but Liam turns away from him, a smile gliding onto his face. "No, not you, you're too clumsy!"

"Heeeey!" Harry says, feigning indignation but then a laugh takes over. "Just because I spilled one last time."

"Yes, all over Gemma's jeans. I won't have that happen again."

Zayn takes one beer and shoves it towards Harry, then picks another from Liam's hand and takes a long drag of it. When he puts it down, Harry can’t help but grin into his own glass at the sullen look on Zayn’s face.

Liam sits down and raises his glass for a cheer. “So, cheers to you guys, it was about time you met.”

Zayn crosses his arms and leans back in his seat a little. Harry thinks he looks quite arrogant this way, but he only finds it secretly amusing. “You guys haven’t known each other for that long, like, at all?” Zayn asks rather sourly. 

Liam’s face falls but Harry is first to talk. “Nah, three days or so. Right mate? Not counting all the times in the underground before we were formally introduced, of course.” He pushes playfully at Liam’s elbow.

A smile is back on Liam’s face instantly. “Yeah, that’s true, although it feels like we’ve known each other for a long time already, no?”

Harry leans back in his seat. Perfect. He is crossing his arms, mirroring Zayn’s position and he fights to keep the impish grin off his face. “Yeah mate, I can only say the same.” To underline it, he winks at Liam, who looks down and blushes a bit and Zayn’s frown gets even more pouty. Harry wonders if he could look more resentful if he tried. He doesn’t think so.

Zayn clears his throat. “Well, that’s nice.”

There is a short silence during which they all take a drag of beer. For a moment, no one talks.

“So what is Louis doing?” Zayn finally asks, directed only at Liam.

“Acting stuff,” Liam shrugs. “I don’t think I’ve seen him without that manuscript for a full week now. 

“Louis, the other one who didn’t show the other day?” Harry asks.

“Liam’s best friend,” Zayn says before Liam can answer.

“Yeah, we’ve known each other since we were kids.” Liam adds. “He’s kinda crazy but I’m pretty attached.”

Harry nods. “And you’re all flatmates. Cute.”

Zayn scrunches his brows but Liam laughs. “Yeah well, he’s easy enough to live with when you get used to him. Or what do you say, Zayn? How do you find our company?”

Zayn empties his pint. “Awesome,” he says when he puts the glass down.

Liam shakes his head, chuckling. “Or are you regretting renting to us instead of Harry?”

“No.” Zayn retorts, a little too fast.

Harry raises his eyebrows and stares at him. “Instead of me, huh? So what is all that about?”

“Erh…” Zayn drags his hand over his mouth as if to dry away beer foam, but really he tries to buy more time, fully aware of the rudeness of his former comment and of Liam looking a little sheepish for the same reason. “Your sister called me to try and get a room for you in the flat, only the day after I gave Louis the key.”

“What? Seriously?” Harry looks a mix between horrified and amused. “That’s really embarrassing.”

“Yeah,” Zayn agrees, “You’d think someone your age was old enough to find a place for himself.”

Liam, wide-eyed, turns his head towards Zayn, staring at him as if he can’t believe those words just came out of his mouth. Zayn tries to grin to mask it as a joke. Harry goes with it.

“Yeah, you’d think so wouldn’t you. I guess sometimes it’s nice when family help out with your living situation, though.”

Zayn and Harry stare directly into each other’s eyes, silently daring the other to hand out the next verbal punch. Harry is smiling slyly and Zayn raises one eyebrow. He wonders how Harry knows that Zayn’s uncle gave him the flat. He breathes in to ask just that, but Liam pushes out his chair and stands up.

“Right! I’m getting another round.”

“Great idea,” Harry says.

“Hmm,” Zayn hums, none of them breaking eye contact. 

When Liam is out of earshot, Harry’s smirk turns into a real grin. “Don’t worry, mate.”

“Oh I’m not worried,” Zayn spits before Harry can elaborate.

“Damn,” Harry says, “you’re kind of poisonous, you know that?”

Harry’s directness kind of takes Zayn off guard. “You’re kind of forward, you know that?”

“I do know that, and that’s why I’m telling you this now, Zayn,” Harry takes the last sip of his beer, dries his lips and nods his head towards Liam at the bar. “You act around Liam as if he’s your property, so obviously you feel threatened by me. I figure that can only mean two things. Either you two are in a relationship, in which case I would back up immediately.”

Zayn’s face is a mask of stone, and Harry wonders if it is uncrackable, because most people would not have been able to hold out against someone being this direct. 

“Or?” Zayn just asks.

“Or,” Harry continues in his slow, confident drawl, “You’re not together. Which I think is the most likely of the two, because Liam would probably have mentioned a boyfriend one of the countless times I have shamelessly flirted with him during the last couple of days.”

The sound of Liam’s laugh carries to their table from the bar, where he has thrown his head back at something the bartender said. They both look over at him and then back at each other.

“And?” Zayn asks, “Your point?”

“Well, if you’re not together, it’s only because you aren’t there yet because from the way you act around him and lash out at me, I can only conclude that you’re into him. You wouldn’t be so obviously threatened by me if you weren’t.”

“You’re not all that threatening, mate.” Zayn hiss.

“Oh I know that I am. I’m really good at this, and as opposed to you, I’m naturally charming. But don’t worry,” Harry repeats, looking over to see Liam fishing his wallet out of his back pocket to pay for the beers. He leans over the table closer to Zayn, who still haven’t changed a single facial feature. Harry’s voice is lower and more hurried this time. “Because I saw the look he gave you upstairs, so I don’t think you have me – or anyone else, for that matter – to worry about.” 

And just like that, Harry discovers that it isn’t that hard to crack through the surface if you just know what tool to use. Zayn’s mouth falls open on a rapidly sucked in breath, and his eyes widens just a bit. So this was something he didn’t know. Huh, Harry thinks, Liam is not the only oblivious person at this table.

And in that second, Liam is actually back at the table, putting down the beers, looking expectantly between the two of them. Harry sends Zayn a bright smile and Zayn’s own lips are starting to curve up at the corners as well. He drags his eyes away from Harry and looks up at Liam instead. “Thanks,” he says and reach for a beer. 

“So, are you two getting along or do we have to ban the subject of flats?” Liam asks, hopefully.

“Nah, ‘s all good, mate. This one is naturally charming,” Zayn says smugly.

Harry throws his head back, laughing heartily at that. Liam looks as if he doesn’t understand why that was so funny, which only makes Zayn laugh too. 

“Right,” Liam mutters, “so maybe this beer should be the last for today.”

“Nah, fuck that,” Harry chuckles, holding his glass out for another cheer. “We’re only young and single once.” He challenges Zayn with a look.

“Cheers to that,” Zayn says and smirks back.

 

***

 

On Tuesday afternoon, Zayn counts the seconds on the clock above the door. He taps his pen against his desk and focuses on breathing lightly. His head is pounding and his eyes are heavy. They had stayed at the pub a little too long yesterday, drinking more than one too many pints. Harry’s words from yesterday has kept spiralling in Zayn’s brain, floating around in the very front of his mind, obscuring his ability to concentrate on anything, including work, all day today. ‘I saw the look he gave you… I don’t think you have me – or anyone else, for that matter – to worry about’. Zayn is all caught up in his own thoughts when Niall appears in front of his desk.

“Here you go, mate.” He places a glass of water and two Paracetamol in front of Zayn. “You look like you need it.”

Zayn sighs and picks up the little white pills. “I don’t understand how I still feel like shit.”

“Well I do,” Niall chuckles, and sits on the edge of Zayn’s desk, as per usual. “Harry came home half past 3 this morning and smelled like beer and dingy bar. I went to have a wee when he barged in and profusely apologised for being noisy before he passed out on the couch, coat still on and everything.”

Zayn scrunches up his nose at the thought of the smell of bar. He fights the queasy feeling and swallows the pills with a gulp of water. “So you spent the night at Gemma’s again, I presume.”

Niall can’t fight a broad smile at the mention of Gemma. He nods and doesn’t quite manage to hide the flush in his cheeks. It’s adorable. Zayn is still a little nauseous. 

“How come Harry didn’t stay over at your couch, though?” Niall asks.

Zayn turns towards his computer and opens his mail, not looking at Niall when he answers. “He uh, he wanted to go home.” 

“In this temperature, across town at three in the morning? Really?”

“What the fuck do I know?” Zayn starts typing a mail, not really paying attention to the words on the screen. “Maybe he just wanted to wake up in his own bed… or couch.”

Niall winks at him. “I think he’d rather like to wake up in Liam’s own bed if you know what I mean.”

Zayn goes cold. “What, has he said anything about Liam?”

“Zayn, he doesn’t need to say anything about Liam for everyone to notice that he’s into him. Well, except you, I guess.”

“What’s it to me anyway,” Zayn mumbles surly and looks at the clock. 10 to four, he can finally leave. He closes the mail without sending the unfinished message.

“Oh right, I forgot,” Niall says dryly, his tone suddenly shifted, “you’re a little cunt who’s afraid of anyone ever getting too near you, so you’d rather pretend not to care that you might fuck up your chance with the one person you have been truly interested in, in let’s see, ever. “

Taken aback, Zayn stares up at Niall who’s now standing up, arms crossed over his chest and every trace of a smile on his perpetually happy face totally vanished. Zayn goes to open his mouth to say something back, put Niall in his place, tell him to mind his own business, something. But Niall beats him to it.

“No! You listen now. I’m so sick and tired of you moping around because you put yourself in this position every time someone dares to care for you. I’m sick of your sullen looks and your complaints about everyone and everything. But even more so, I’m fucking tired of you treating Liam like trash.”

“Hey!” Zayn yells out, “I do not treat him like tra–” 

“Listen, mate,” Niall cuts him off loudly, “Liam is a great guy. He is nice, he is funny, he is kind and he has a heart of bloody gold. You are my friend first and foremost, but I have to say that Liam has quickly become someone I care very much about, and I know that he of all people does not deserve to be treated badly, by anyone, for any reason – not even you Zayn, just because you’re lovesick.”

“I’m not–”

“Don’t!” Niall holds up a hand, palm flat out in front of Zayn. “Don’t argue this one, Zayn. Just take it.”

Zayn goes quiet. He can feel his cheeks heating up, a sensation very foreign to him. Niall is never mad. He never says anything remotely harsh and he never raises his voice in anger. Seeing him doing just that for the first time is so rare and has such a big effect. Zayn is very rarely embarrassed or ashamed, but right now, there’s a knot in his chest and he can’t quite meet Niall’s eyes. He knows that he needs to say something, but he has no clue what.

“I, erh… I’m sorry,” he mumbles, still looking down at his hands.

Niall sighs and lets his arms fall down his sides. “I’m not the one you need to tell that, mate.” 

His voice is softer now. It gives Zayn enough courage to look at him. His face is softer as well, but he’s not smiling as usual. Zayn finds something else there, though, something almost resembling pity. He swallows.

“I can’t tell Liam ‘sorry’, though, can I? ‘Sorry for what’, he’ll say.” He turns off his computer and stands up to gather his things and put them in his bag. “Well, Liam, sorry for being a prick to you and then leading you on only to push you away because I can’t allow you to get too close. Sorry for acting like a brat around you and Harry as if you’re a toy I’d lost interest in only to become jealous and possessive the moment someone else finds it and plays with it, not because I want it myself, but only because I don’t want him to want it. Sorry for snapping at you all the time and hurting your feelings and acting confusingly around you. Sorry for being such an asshole when you deserve all the best, sorry that I can’t give you that.”

He stops. Niall is quiet. Everyone else in the office is pretending to be occupied with work, but Zayn knows they have intently ear dropped the whole conversation. He sighs and shoulders his bag. At least his headache is easing up. 

“And to think that all this time, you were actually a big softie,” Niall says and Zayn looks up at him to find the familiar smile back on his lips.

“Shut up.”

“I knew you thought about these things, Zayn, but that only makes it harder for me to understand why you let it happen.”

Zayn starts walking towards the door and holds it for Niall. “I don’t know what else to do.”

“Maybe just tell him how you feel?” Niall suggests.

Zayn laughs dryly. “That easy, huh?”

Niall just shrugs his shoulders as if to say ‘yes, that easy’.

Zayn shakes his head. “No, I can’t do that. I’m too scared of what he’ll say.”

They reach the tube and when Zayn makes to go down, Niall makes a motion with his head, he’s going another way. 

“Gemma?” Zayn asks.

“Yeah,” Niall sighs happily. He puts his hand on Zayn’s shoulder. “And just so you know, before Harry fell asleep last night, he mumbled something to me about not having a chance because Liam was already lost to you, so maybe you shouldn’t be too worried about what he’d say. You know, if you talked to him.”

Zayn just looks at him, hands buried in his pockets. He lifts his shoulders, let them fall and shakes his head almost unnoticeably. “Yeah.”

“Think about it,” Niall insists. “See you tomorrow.” He pads his shoulder one last time and disappears in the crowd. 

Zayn stands in the same spot for a while, watching the Londoners rush by. When it starts raining, he sighs and walks down the stairs to catch a train home.

 

***

 

The lights in the stairway are off when Zayn arrives home, and he drips all the way up the stairs in the half dark. Locking himself into his flat, he doesn’t even get to close the door behind him before he is overwhelmed with an armful of Louis, clinging to him like for dear life. The bundle of them almost topples over but Zayn grabs a hold of the doorframe and tries to wriggle free of Louis.

“What the fuck, Louis!” Zayn gasps.

Louis let’s go and takes a step away from Zayn, and in the dark, it is easy to make out the smile that lights up Louis’ entire face.

“I got it!”

Zayn closes the door, and it gets even darker. “Why the fuck haven’t you turned on the lights?”

“What? No listen,” Louis says.

“Wait, you got it? You got the part?” Zayn interrupts when Louis’ words get through to him.

“Yes! Zayn, I got the part! I’m Hamlet!”

Zayn throws his arms out wide. “Mate, that’s bloody amazing!”

Louis meets him half way and they collide in a tight hug, padding each other’s shoulders. “And it’s all because of you.”

Letting go, Zayn shakes his head. “I didn’t get you the part.”

“No but you did help me decipher the play and I’m serious, I couldn’t have done it without you!” Louis is almost radiating, although it’s hard to actually see his features.

“Don’t mention it, Louis, I’d do it any time. Why is it so dark in here though?”

Louis wafts his hand, “blackout I think. It was all right earlier but it’s getting too dark inside now to see anything. I was looking for candles before but I couldn’t find any. “

Zayn hangs his dripping jacket on a knob and runs a hand through his soaked hair. “I think there’s some in the kitchen. I’ll get ‘em and then I need a warm shower, I’m soaked.”

“I’ll put on the kettle.” Louis says as he walks into the kitchen. 

Zayn wonders if that’s Louis’ default response and solution to everything. He follows Louis to the kitchen counter and digs out some tea lights and candles from a drawer and hands them to Louis. Picking up a three-armed candleholder, he lights it and takes it to the bathroom. He turns on the shower and manages to knock over several bottles of toiletries into the sink in the sparse light. At first, he is annoyed with the lacking light, but when he gets under the gush of hot water, it all turns out to be very relaxing. He ends up having a long shower, just standing under the stream of the showerhead and feeling the water tickle down his body. When he finally steps out of the shower, he has no idea how long has passed. He wraps up in his bathrobe, but when he walks out of the bathroom, the air still hits him like an ice-cold blanket wrapping around his body. A cup of steaming tea does not actually sound that bad. He goes to the kitchen to see if Louis has kept his promise of making a cup.

“Is it just our building or is it like, all of London?” He asks, as he steps into the kitchen.

“It’s just this street,” Liam’s voice answers from somewhere near the sink, and Zayn’s heart explodes.

“Shit!” he exclaims and presses his hand flat against his chest in shock, to make sure his heart doesn’t beat through his ribcage. “You scared the living shit out of me, Liam!”

“Sorry,” Liam says and steps into the sphere of the candle light on the dinner table. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, I thought you were talking to me.” 

Zayn shakes his head and grabs a cup of tea on the table with too little milk in it to be Louis’. He sips it and tastes no honey either. “I thought Louis was out here.”

“He was a second ago, I think we went to look for a power bank to charge his phone. It just died. Big tragedy.” He chuckles and takes a sip of the cup in his hand.

Zayn hums as an answer and sits down by the table, being careful to avoid the robe from slipping too far up his thigh, even in the dull light. He studies Liam, who’s looking out the window. He looks soft and warm in the candlelight, and Zayn suddenly gets very hot. He puts his mug down. 

“I erh, I’m gonna go put some clothes on.” He mumbles and scrambles out of his chair, leaving the Liam and kitchen hastily.

He goes to his room and closes his door behind him. For a moment, he leans against it, regaining some self-control. He stalks over to his dresser and yanks open a drawer, pulling out a pair of underpants. He drags them on, careful not to touch his boner with his hands as to not make it even worse. For fucks sake, Liam can’t do this to him, no one can do this to him. Zayn is – has always been – the epitome of self-control. He sits down on his bed and tries to relax. From there, he can hear Liam in the kitchen, talking to Louis who must have re-emerged from his room. Their words are barely perceptible but the soft hum of Liam’s voice goes straight through the walls and straight to Zayn’s dick, which is not getting any less hard. He makes a frustrated sound and falls back against his bed, grabbing for a pillow in the dark. He presses it over his ear and closes out all sounds. He tries to think of anything but Liam. Nothing helps. In the end, he gives up and moves the pillow under his head instead. Checking the door to make sure he closed it after himself, he moves his hand over his stomach and slips it into his pants. He wraps it around his dick and his cold hand feels like an electrical shock through his body and goose bumps break out on his arms. He tries hard to keep any sounds, any little moans, from slipping through his sealed lips. He starts slowly, moving his hand up and down his penis, but he quickly speeds up, tightens his grip, trying to get it over with. He just needs it over with. His breathing is ragged now, and he is still concentrating on not making too much noise when the sound of Liam’s laughter slips through the walls and that’s really all it takes to push Zayn over the edge. Orgasm washes over him and renders his vision all white hot for a moment, until he comes down again, panting hard. For a while, he just lies there motionless, trying to steady his breath, letting Liam’s voice roll over him through the walls. 

 

***

 

In the kitchen, Liam is sitting by the table now, holding on to his cup of tea for warmth. Louis is swearing at the pot on the stove. 

“I couldn’t grasp why the water wouldn’t boil,” he tells Liam, “It literally took me 5 minutes to figure out that when the power’s out, so’s the kettle. I’m such an idiot.”

Liam smiles quietly at Louis’ rant while shaking his head. “You sure are,” he mumbles. “But I kinda like you anyway.”

“Aww,” Louis puffs, “you going soft on me now?”

Liam shrugs and sips at his tea. Louis keeps checking the water for bubbles. He already has an empty cup at the ready, the little yellow Twinning’s tag dangling on the string over the rim. 

Liam sighs heavily. Louis turns towards him at that and looks him up and down. He is slouching in the chair, holding on the cup with both hands, staring hopelessly into the damping liquid. His face is soft, like all his features are relaxed, but Louis sees something else there. Is it sadness? Not quite, but something very close.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

Liam doesn’t look up instantly. The corner of his mouth twitches, contorts to something in-between a smile and a frown. “Yeah,” he breathes and finally meets Louis’ eyes. “I’m good.”

“You sure?” Louis says as he walks over to the table and puts a hand on Liam’s shoulder. Liam raises his head and meets Louis eyes, gives him a sad little smile and opens his mouth to say something, then stops. He takes a moment to form the words.

“I’ll figure it out,” he finally mumbles, nodding his head slightly, more to himself than to Louis.

Louis squeezes his shoulder. “Right,” he says, just as Zayn walks back into the kitchen, looking tousled and red cheeked, wearing sweatpants and keeping his eyes on the floor. “You’ll tell me if you need to talk, yeah? If you need cheering up or…”

Liam sends Louis an intense stare, eyes slightly widened and lips pressed together. Louis looks at Liam, then at Zayn, who scrambles with something in a cupboard, then gets the message and stops talking. 

Liam goes back to staring into his cup. Louis joins Zayn at the kitchen counter, turning off the gas under the pot of the now boiling water. “You want another cup? I poured yours out because it got cold.”

“Sure,” Zayn says and hands Louis his mug. “I don’t mind when it gets cold though.”

Louis ignores him and prepares a fresh cup for both of them, pouring his own into a travel mug. Zayn sits on the kitchen counter, legs dangling underneath him. Liam pretends to be doing a crossword in the candle light, not looking up once. Louis studies them both, rolls his eyes and grabs his travel mug and walks towards the door.

“Okay, I’m gonna leave,” he proclaims, “I might at well go to the theatre and do some more work, can’t do it here anyway, my laptop needs charge.” 

He goes to his room, finds his bag and stuffs his laptop and manuscript into it. He goes to the hallway and grabs his jacket and scarf. In the kitchen, no one has moved or said anything. 

“So,” Louis sighs and leans against the doorframe. “Are you two gonna sit there like statues waiting for me to get back or?” 

Zayn turns his head and looks at him, a tired expression on his face. Liam, who sits with his back facing Louis, doesn’t look up from his crosswords. Louis meets Zayn’s eyes and shrugs his shoulders. Zayn shakes his head once. Louis rolls his eyes and mouths ‘talk to him’, motioning his head towards Liam. Zayn flips Louis off with scrunched brows, then lets his eyes fall on Liam. He closes them for a second, and then nods. Louis accepts this as a victory.

“Goodbye then!” he throws back over his shoulder as he leaves the flat. “Have fun.”

 

***

 

The darkening sky has cleared up and clouds are receding to make space for the first evening stars. Cold puffs of mist escape Louis’ lips as he turns the corner towards the theatre. The electric light spills out of the tall Windows and it looks warm and welcoming inside. He walks past the entrance doors and continues along the brick wall. He turns the next corner and walks straight towards the back door with the sign “staff” on it, a spring in his step and a smile on his lips. He opens the door and steps inside. There’s not a lot of people in the theatre today, with no play going on in any of the auditoriums. Louis navigates the shallow hallways and finds the theatre hall where his play is gonna take place. He walks in from the left side of the stage and can see two people on the opposite side. One is standing in the shadows of the curtain that hangs low under the ceiling. The other is the casting assistant, who is also a third year student at the LOA. Louis doesn't remember her name, Katy or Cathy or something, probably. She is laughing screechingly at something the other person says, shaking her long blonde hair. Louis stays in the left side of the stage, peeling off his layers of clothes, hanging up his scarf and jacket. He hears her telling the other person goodbye, and when he looks up, Katy or Cathy is on her way across the stage, looking directly at him, smiling widely. 

“Hi Hamlet,” she says and giggles at her own hilarity. She pushes Louis’ arm. “You certainly are a hard worker.”

Louis forces a smile back at her. “I’m just here to get a feel for the place, and,” he bends down and drags his laptop out of his bag, “the power in my flat is out, so I thought I could work on my lines over here for a while.”

“Good work ethic,” she tells him, “I like you already.”

Louis makes a humming noise and doesn't return the sentiment. He digs out his charger and nods at Katy or Cathy to indicate that the conversation is over. “I think I’ll…”

“Of course!” She says. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Louis puts his laptop on a table and connects the charger. Katy or Cathy is gone in a whirl of her long pink scarf and sweet perfume and Louis is left alone in the theatre hall. He looks around for a chair and finds one behind a painted wing of mountains. As he sits down in front of his still closed laptop, a door from the right side of the stage creaks and then thuds closed. A pair of sneakers walk across the stage and the closer to the middle of the stage the person gets, the more of him is illuminated by the stage lights. Louis looks up at the tall guy in black jeans and an oversize sweater, his jacket hanging open over it. His hair is long and brown, his lips are pale and wide and he is walking straight towards Louis but doesn’t seem to have noticed him. Louis realises that he sits in the dark and figures he should make his presence known. He opens his laptop and his screen and the glowing apple on the back lights up simultaneously. 

“Hi,” Louis says, at the exact moment the other guy sees the glow of the laptop. He seems momentarily taken aback and immediately trips over the cord of Louis’ charger, tearing the magnetic plug out of the laptop.

“Oops!” the guy exclaims, as it clatters to the floor. 

Louis and the guy both bend down to pick it up.

“I’m really sorry about that,” the guy insists, in a slow, soft drawl, “I didn't see you there at all.”

“It’s okay,” Louis says, and takes the cord the guy is handing towards him, ”it’s my fault, I was sitting here in the dark.”

The guy walks over to the wall and presses a switch. With a whirring sound, the curtain draws further up, letting the stage light fall deeper into the sides and the back of the stage.

“Here’s a little more light for you, then, if you need it to work.” The guy is smiling at Louis now, and Louis stands up immediately. 

It feels automatic, the way his body moves, as if on its own accord. He walks over to the pretty guy and sticks his hand out. The guy looks down at it for a second before wrapping his own hand around it, and he smiles the widest, brightest smile Louis has ever seen. The warmth of this big hand enclosed around Louis’ own and the amount of attention and the meticulous way in which the guy’s green eyes studies Louis’ face makes it harder to breathe for a second. God, he is beautiful. Louis clears his throat.

“I’m Louis, by the way” he says with a clear, confident voice, he hopes.

The pretty guy holds on to Louis’ hand and nods his head so his curly hair bounces a little. “Of course you are,” he says, and Louis doesn't think he had ever heard a softer, sexier voice. “You are the one who’s playing Hamlet, aren't you? I should have guessed.”

Their hands are still clasped together. “How come?” Louis asks and ends the handshake, acutely aware that he should probably have ended it much sooner and also wishing he didn't have to. “I mean, why should you have guessed?”

“Because Hamlet is the prince of Denmark, right?” The guy smiles a little lopsided. Louis feels dizzy. “And princes are supposed to be gorgeous.”

Louis’ stomach turns and his heart pounds ridiculously fast. For a second, he almost forgets that he is the master of banter and comebacks altogether. And while he is master of those, he is probably even better at flirting. They all fail at this particular moment, however.

“You didn't tell me your name?” is all he can manage.

The guy chuckles and walks over to the coat rack to grab a beanie. He pulls it over his curls and while that would make anyone look stupid, it only makes him look even cuter. Is cute a word you use for a grown man? It seems fitting with this one, Louis thinks to himself.

“Sorry, I guess I didn't,” the guy says. He stops right in front of Louis, standing very close. He is tall, and Louis has to look up to meet his eyes. “I’m Harry,” he says. “I forgot my beanie.”

“Oh,” Louis says. That’s all. He concentrates on breathing.

“I’ll leave you to your work, Louis.” Harry puts his hand around Louis’ arm and squeezes it slightly. “I’ll hopefully see you again here soon.”

Louis nods and goes to sit down. The guy – Harry – doesn’t walk away though. He still looks at Louis, a little hesitant. Oh, Louis thinks, was that a question?

“Hopefully?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, you’ll be here, practicing for your play?” He sticks his hands into his pockets, waiting for Louis to catch up.

“I will,” Louis confirms.

“And I’ll be here, helping out with the stage and props for the play and… I’m an usher here too, so I guess I’ll see you act…”

Oh. Louis studies the guy a little closer. Underneath the confident surface, his cheeks are a little rosy and his smile a little shy. Louis takes a deep breath.

“Sounds like we’re going to spend quite some time together, then.” He smiles at Harry and then, risking it, he winks.

Harry’s face lights up in a chuckle and Louis already loves the sound of that. “Looking forward to that then. Nice to meet you, Louis,” he says as he walk across the stage towards the door.

“Nice to meet you too, Harry,” Louis says after him, maybe too quiet, maybe not. He only looks down when the door is completely shut behind Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, Harry and Louis FINALLY met! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this, I really do! Your comments make me so happy, I am writing this for you guys and it really brings me joy to know that you like it.
> 
> I'm writing more for you as you read this. See ya soon!


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